


young & beautiful

by spacehussy



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Attempted Seduction, Bad Decisions, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-11 09:51:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehussy/pseuds/spacehussy
Summary: Loki had promised earnestly, of course, to do as he was asked, and to find a way past his infatuation. He lied.After all, the game only grew more interesting once Loki knew he was not playing it alone.--(Loki gets what he wants, and it ruins his life. Things go a little better the second time around.)





	1. young

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 was vaguely inspired by some aspects of Blood Brothers, part 2 and 3 both correspond to AOA and Thor 2018 (1-4) to varying degrees. I don’t have a consistent picture of the Odinson family dynamics in the comics, so everything else I just made up for fun. Like, for instance, Loki being the youngest of four and wanting nothing more in the whole world but to seduce his oldest brother :)))) 
> 
> I want to thank @reikah so so so much for being the best cheerleader and beta I could have asked for, this would have gotten nowhere without her help. Plus it’s her fault I went full Lana del Rey for the title.

It always came back to Thor.

As far back as Loki could reasonably remember—and he could remember quite a lot—Thor had defined his sense of perfection. He knew no other model for strength, valor, or physical beauty, not so much that any other could hope to match or compare, not even as he turned from boyhood to adolescence. To be in his eldest brother’s presence was akin to standing in the sunlight, and he clung to it even as the rest of the world seemed so cold and dull by comparison.

He could not say when, exactly, that feeling began to change inside him. As his youthful reverence evolved into lust, it felt so natural, so inevitable and fitting, that it scarcely troubled him.

It troubled _others_ , of course. Loki certainly remembered when the behavior of those around him seemed to change, as though they came to sense what was inside him. He could remember intimately the strange looks from his brother’s boorish friends as he shadowed them always in Thor’s company, and the way his open adoration for Thor brought out something cruel and merciless in Tyr. It seemed to be something that neither Tyr—nor Baldr, for that matter—was willing to openly name, but Loki could see the quiet discomfort in their eyes once he was old enough to recognize it.

 Perhaps in his way, Tyr thought to teach him shame. It didn’t work, not really, though it taught Loki other things. Fear, mostly; but also how to turn situations to his advantage, to put on a show over skinned knees, to twist words and vie for Thor’s sympathy and protection. His reward often made the beatings worth it; as he would find himself shepherded to his favored brother’s side, leaning into him with warm satisfaction and watching with smug delight as Thor berated Tyr for his bullying. 

And yet despite the staring, the taunting from Tyr, the stiff disquiet from Baldr, no one seemed able to name his moping and mooning around his brother for what it truly was. Certainly not when Thor had said nothing about it. Odin barely looked in his direction at that age, and Freyja…

Well, his mother perhaps came the closest, but Loki doubted even she understood the depths of his feelings on the matter. She came to him once, spoke at some length about finding playmates his own age, cautioned him about appropriate behavior for a prince of Asgard, even for the youngest. The talk went on for _ages_ , and very little of it made sense at the time, much less held his interest—or perhaps he did not want it to.

What did become clear to Loki, however, was that his preoccupation with Thor was simply now too obvious.

So, he learned better. Concealing the strength of his adoration came first, though as even that deepened over time, Loki found new ways to change the story. He had desires for other things as well, and found it gratifying to give in to what impulses he could. It became so easy to hide behind loud, vicious pranks, troublesome displays that distracted from the ache in him. His mischief helped disguise the piercing need of his gaze towards Thor’s broad back, for what else would anyone care to talk about than his misbehavior, the ugly games he liked to play?

And oh, it was _fun,_ but under it all, he hungered so. It only grew worse over time, his hunger for something so much more than the patient, fraternal fondness he received from Thor. Loki often wondered what it might be like to see Thor as a brother only, as he had no trouble seeing Tyr and Baldr, and not as the singular object of his desire. Thor could be foolish, unpleasantly brash, almost useless when his temper flared—and it did, quite often.

Those sights, while distasteful to witness, did little to quiet the need in him. As a boy, he knew nothing but the depths of his want for Thor’s attention and favors, begging to be spoiled rotten. And Thor—crown prince and already almost of age by the time Loki could learn to stalk him through the palace and all over the realm—he did just that, indulging his youngest brother with affection and treats, so blissfully ignorant of what motivated Loki’s every move.

When he was not quite a man, but no longer a boy in his own mind, Loki sought nothing as stridently as he did Thor’s company. But now it was different; he was no longer satisfied by a simple smile, a ruffle of his dark hair as Thor left the palace for some adventure, or gifts of toys from far-off realms. Now, he found any opportunity for them to be alone, to put himself in Thor’s path and be the whole of his attention. To press near him, hopeful and wanting, for even a squeeze of his brother’s warm palm to his narrow shoulder, a lingering hand against the back of his neck. 

Despite his best efforts, however, it seemed Thor was oblivious to his desires. Though Loki tried to keep himself contained in shared company, he gave up all pretense once they were alone together, fawning and flirting in measured advances.

It was not subtle, yet Thor never gave any sign that he even noticed, and it nearly drove Loki mad with frustration over time in his adolescence. Was his brother _blind_? Could he not see what was right in front of him, how undeniable Loki’s invitation and interest?

Perhaps Thor was as imperceptive as he was beautiful—unaware of his relentless attempts to get them alone, to press indecently close, maybe steal a kiss—but eventually Loki grew tired of his ineffective ploys. A night came, a trip far from Asgard and its court, an opportunity too good, and then Thor could ignore him no longer.

With the two of them alone, far from home on Alfheim, Loki gave in to the desperate rising hunger in him. He invited himself into his brother’s lap, arms encircling those broad shoulders, drinking in the sight as Thor’s eyes went wide.

And for a single heady moment, it was everything he had wanted. Thor froze under his scant weight, such a color rising in his cheeks, and Loki could only smile as he pressed himself close in offering, anticipation and desire heavy and hot in his belly.

Thor’s hands came upon him, weighty and warm, and Loki felt his entire body throb in response. He was sure it felt better than anything he had ever experienced in his life. _Yes_ , he wanted to say, be it a shout or a whisper, _you can have me, all of me_ —

But, instead, the only sound to come out of him was a yelp as he was knocked to the floor. Stunned, Loki stared up at his brother, who at once was on his feet, hands scrubbing over his purpling cheeks.

Shock, horror, shame. With his chest sinking, Loki watched each expression twist his brother’s handsome face, recognizing them only as he had seen them on others. None of those things troubled _him_ , there was only frustration and confusion at the denial.

They could have this, he thought, frowning. It would be _easy_. He did not get a chance to say so.

“You’re just a boy,” Thor shouted at him, when he seemed able to speak once more. “A child! My _brother_. You must stop behaving this way, it’s not _right_ , and I have let it go on long enough.”

 _Ah_. He did know, then. Loki knew better than to smile, as satisfying as it was to discover his beloved brother was not so terribly dense after all.

The night had ended there, to his great displeasure. Thor was in no state to continue, worked up and flushed after his outburst. Loki had promised earnestly, of course, to do as he was asked, and to find a way past his infatuation. He lied.

After all, the game only grew more interesting once Loki knew he was not playing it alone.

After that night, he behaved as dutifully and appropriately he was expected to be—in public. For a while, at least. Eventually, however, he came to contrive of new excuses to be alone with Thor, as the need for his brother’s attention became virtually ravenous the longer he tried to be patient.

He was perhaps fifteen, that first time. He tried again and again that summer, as well as the next. Thor ignored him, found ways to evade him and his advances, though his objections whenever Loki did manage to confront him were thin. They only grew weaker with time.

And in that time, while Thor denied him—denied them _both—_ Loki worked on his magic. He nearly mastered the ability to move through shadows by the time he came of age, largely from his attempts to slip past the Einherjar and into Thor’s room unseen.

Getting in was often the easy part. Staying there for longer than a minute or two, well… He was never particularly fortunate in that respect.

Only once. He came so close. It was a few years after his first real attempt, though it felt like centuries. Loki was taller by then, no longer a thin slip of a boy as he climbed astride his brother in his dark bedroom, the weight of his body pressing down against Thor’s hips, impossible to miss. Thor was awake in a flash.

A dozen times, he’d tried this. A dozen times, Thor had tossed him to the floor and then out into the hall.

This time, however, to Loki’s secret and terrible thrill, he found himself thrown to Thor’s bed instead. Thor moved them so seamlessly, reversing their positions and pinning Loki beneath him with seemingly no effort whatsoever. 

Loki could barely contain himself at the best of times. And so, in response, he didn’t even try, letting a moan of encouragement escape him in the quiet room. There was nothing but the two of them, alone in the dark, with Thor’s ragged breathing the only sound he could hear under the pounding of his own heart. His thin bedclothes were no shield from the heat pouring off of his brother, and almost deliriously, Loki wished he hadn’t bothered with them at all.

“This is the last time,” Thor said to him, after a staggering silence, his voice very much like thunder. Deep, rumbling, a sensation Loki could feel almost as keenly as the grip of Thor’s hands on his shoulders where his brother pressed him to the bed. “This is the _last time_ I will tell you to stop. No more, Loki. Do you understand?”

That was new, Loki couldn’t help but note. The threat in the words seemed real enough, yet he only squirmed where he was held, trembling with the want of it. For this. For more. For whatever Thor would deign to give him.

 _Oh_ , Thor hadn’t touched him in so _long_ …

“Thor,” he gasped, breathless as his hands came up to wrap around his brother’s. Tracing the cords of muscle, wanting only to feel them better. “I want you, I do, I have always—”

He got no further before he realized—before they _both_ realized—that Thor was quite bare above him. His breathing went thin as possibilities stretched out in his mind, and even in the dark, Loki could see how his brother flushed red. 

“I’m not a child,” Loki managed to croak, though it was agony to tear his eyes away from the space between their bodies. Better, he thought, to look Thor in the eye, though his brother denied him that as well. In fact, it was hard to tell if Thor was looking at anything at all, his blue eyes fixed to some point below Loki’s chin, unfocused and distant. 

With his insides twisting with frustration, Loki tried once more to get the words out. “It’s been _years_ , brother,” he whispered, and watched as Thor flinched from it. Loki pushed forward, as though he couldn’t stop. He just needed his brother to understand. “I’ve desired you as long as I can remember—whatever you want, we can do it and I’ll like it, I _promise_ —”

From above him came an awful, strangled sound as Thor jerked his head to the side. And that was the end of that; after a few moments, Loki was unceremoniously pushed out into the hall once more. Left alone, hard and aching, so deeply unsatisfied.

And even then, despite his anger at the rejection, _still_ Loki found himself unable to think of anything but Thor’s body pressed against his. He returned to his own chambers with his head heavy with thoughts of it, all his imaginings of what they could do, if Thor would simply allow him the chance.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Thor was still only a man. All men had limits, even the very best.

And that _was_ Thor, wasn’t it? Faithful and good, _so_ good, he denied them both for so long. Thor ignored what was possible between them, ignored the beast ripping Loki apart from the inside, for all his desire.

But it was not terribly long after his misadventure in Thor’s chamber for the last time that everything changed. Another trip away from the palace—not even one of Loki’s design!—and with their blood warmed by barrels of wine, it took startlingly little effort on his part to convince Thor to fall into bed with him.

Later, he will look back and think that he should have known. He should have known it could never be so easy; that after years of this desperate pursuit, all of his relentless flirtation and outright pleading, Thor would not be swayed by a mere touch of his fingertips, a hopeful smile as he leaned close in that small room.

 _Norns_ , but he wanted it so much. Enough to not question when Thor took his face in hand, pulling him into a gentle kiss so searing Loki thought he may die of it. From there all he wanted to do was drown in Thor’s attentions, allow his brother to do whatever he might desire, as long as Thor never stopped kissing him.

He’d started to think—well, he’d started to _plan_ —that if Thor could not be convinced in the traditional sense, that maybe there were… _other_ means to get what he wanted. Loki thought perhaps he could find some form his brother might enjoy more, as taxing as it would be to his developing skills, beyond animals or glamours. He’d decided it would be worth learning, for this scheme and others, but that night his shape was his own.

And Thor kissed him still.

They were as alone as they had been in ages, staying overnight in one of the royal hunting lodges. Their only company was made up of scattered servants (hours ago dismissed, and by Thor!), what horses they brought, and no other witnesses save the beasts in the forest for miles around them. It was better than Loki could have even conceived of, like a dream, one that he expected to wake from at every step.

Thor stroked his cheek, kissed him first sweetly, then deeply as he moaned for it. When he tried putting himself once more in Thor’s lap, Loki found himself lifted outright, as though weightless, and for once he was not thrown to the ground. He expected it even then, but Thor’s hold on him remained true until they crossed the threshold of the closest bedroom, the one Thor had claimed for himself when they arrived.

Try as he might to stop it, by the time Thor deposited him with care on the bed, Loki found himself trembling. Not with fear, none of that, only breathless anticipation and desire, but he despised what it revealed. For once Thor noticed, and when he did, Loki could see the doubt and concern enter his eyes—and he didn’t want _that_.

“Loki,” Thor murmured, his voice soft and tentative, as if speaking to some injured thing.

Loki tried not to scowl, and kept himself from lashing out by reaching for his brother in the way he had only dreamt of. 

“I’m fine,” he said at once, but his tone was too hard, too tense. Under his palms, he could feel Thor flinch in response.

A different tactic, then. Loki refused to let this moment escape him, this opportunity he had longed for since he was barely out of adolescence, and with a shiver he forced himself to look up and meet his brother’s worried eyes. He even smiled, pressing his palms flat to Thor’s broad chest, his own arousal twisting like a hot knife in his belly to feel the sheer strength there.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he said again, but with warmth, and it seemed to help ease that troubled look. Yet Thor had stopped touching him, merely standing before the bed while entirely too dressed, and Loki couldn’t tolerate that for much longer. He tried again. “I’m not afraid. I have only ever wanted this.”

Thor’s shoulders seemed to relax, though his mouth still drew into a taut, worried line. He seemed to have something on his mind, and as much as Loki was desperate to get past this and pull Thor to him intimately, he made himself wait.

“Tell me—” he began, finally, as Loki’s thoughts rushed in a hundred directions.

 _Anything_ , he thought at once, urging Thor with a careful squeeze to his hip, an invitation. _Anything you want, I…_

 _“_ Tell me it’s not your first time,” Thor pleaded.

Loki blinked up at him in surprise, only for a moment.

“It’s not,” he lied. Not what he had expected, but if it was what his brother needed to hear, so be it. 

To his relief, it did seem to quiet some fear holding Thor back, as Thor responded by lifting his hands to curl around the column of Loki’s throat. It was gentle, a touch so warm and perfect Loki was powerless but to lean into it and sigh. To meet Thor’s gaze once more and spin the thread as asked. 

“You won’t be the first, you won’t hurt me—I could have _anyone,_ I promise, yet I still want you.” Lies—all of it, save the last; he had _only_ ever desired Thor. With a tug at his brother’s riding leathers, Loki readied himself to continue, but it wasn’t necessary. Thor leaned into him, kissed him into silence, pushed him down against the bed with careful, inexorable pressure.

There were too many layers between them, Loki thought; a fact Thor seemed unconcerned about. He felt it most keenly as his legs fell apart, his brother sliding between them, and gasped with awful urgency at the brush of Thor’s cock against his clothed thigh. Even with his brother half-hard, the contact jolted through him, the physical reality of it startling. Loki wasn’t afraid (he _wasn’t_ ) but he had never felt that sensation before, and it sparked something new in him, suddenly alight with nervous excitement and anticipation. It left him pulling at his brother’s golden hair, his own tunic, clumsy in his haste and growing need.

When Thor’s hands first fell to his, guiding them firmly away from where he rushed to strip them both, Loki’s first instinct was to protest. He reached for Thor once more, some piteous whine escaping him, but he had not the strength to pull his brother’s hands back.

 _No_ , he thought, _don’t stop_ —but _oh_ , it was not that at all.

In the stillness, Loki grew very still, watching with rapt attention as Thor began to undress. For _him_. He’d seen his brother naked before, often shirtless while training with the Einherjar or the other warriors, and more frequently than that when he was too young to conceive of what he would one day want.

Only one other time, in some intimate sense, in Thor’s bedroom some weeks prior. But that was just a glance in the dark; nothing like the sight before him now. Loki’s gaze lingered, breath going thin and unsteady, so hard himself it hurt.

Thor was so beautiful in every light, but here the shadows clung to him artfully, making Loki so painfully aware of his own gangly limbs in comparison. Despite his own physical shortcomings, Thor was with him anyway, visibly aroused and gorgeous. In his presence, suddenly Loki couldn’t remember how to speak, or move his hands to undress as well.

It wasn’t until Thor started to move, joining him on the bed, that Loki jerked back into motion. He pulled with renewed energy at his clothes but, again, Thor pushed away his hands to take over, communicating his intent while barely making a sound.

Thor barely spoke at all, in fact. A detail that Loki noticed but could not spare the resources to wonder about—not now, not like this. It was enough for him that Thor’s eyes were fixed to his, breath coming low and deep, undressing him with an unhurried, gentle touch that felt like reverence.

The room was cold; the lodge was not one of their better ones, old and notorious for leaking heat like a sieve. But it was far, far from Asgard, and he was not alone. Thor’s fingertips felt hot against his skin, broad body covering Loki’s as he unfastened and pulled off every layer, every scrap and every stitch, until there was nothing left between them.

“Thor, please,” Loki heard himself whisper, reaching up to clutch Thor’s shoulders and bring him close. It seemed to take a moment, his brother stiff under his grasp, but it was forgotten by the time Thor’s mouth found his once more.

Minutes felt like hours, collected in perfect suspension. There was nothing but two of them, uninterrupted, and Thor kissed him deep and steady, as though he could keep doing so for hours more.

In a way, Loki thought he should be content with that as well. Even weeks ago, he would have been euphoric to merely be allowed the chance, and it would have been enough.

But time and again, he felt the brush of Thor’s cock between his thighs, his lower belly, the weight and heat and wetness of it against his skin intensely thrilling. And he knew—he was _certain—_ that a kiss could not be all Thor would want.

It was not all Loki wanted either. Although it was very nice, for just a while longer. He gave himself to it fully, arms wrapped around the back of Thor’s neck, so his brother could not slip away without a fight. In return, Thor pushed a hand between them, thick fingers engulfing Loki’s cock with a careful squeeze.

 _Oh_ , Loki thought weakly. _Ohh._ He pressed himself up into that touch without hesitation, shivering when his brother seemed to inhale sharply in response. Again and again, he wondered if he would even survive the night, for he had never experienced anything as perfect as Thor above him and stroking him so intimately.

Eventually, however, even with _that_ , impatience and need became too much, and Loki could not help the impulse to hook his knees around Thor’s hips, to press their bodies together in desperate urgency. To do as his brother had done, and communicate his invitation without a word.

For a moment, he felt quite pleased with himself, because he felt Thor’s cock twitch against him, felt a groan reverberate throughout his entire body with his brother’s strength. But to his surprise, Thor seemed to stiffen and then pulled away, leaving Loki to fall back against the bed alone.

“Thor?” he asked in confusion, something unsettled and manic twisting under his skin. The room wasn’t well lit, but he could see his brother’s face easily enough. His brow was furrowed, his mouth a tight line, and that manic sensation inside Loki burrowed deeper.

“It’s nothing,” Thor said. Loki wasn’t so sure, not until Thor looked him in the eye again and his face softened into an almost shy smile. “You’re certain, brother?”

 _Is that all?_ Loki grinned at once, nearly giddy with relief. He’d only been begging for this for years—leave it to Thor of all people to be so hesitant to take what was offered to him freely, not just once but a hundred times.

“You know that I am,” he replied plainly, and pushed himself up his hands to be closer now that Thor had pulled away. “I’ve dreamt of this, so many times…”

There was more he desired to say, but the words left him. The sight of Thor, knelt between his splayed thighs, was far too much, and his throat ran dry as he stared. With his entire body thrumming with interest, Loki let his eyes fall low, lingering until Thor seemed to grow flustered at the direction of his shameless gaze.

He didn’t need words for this at all, Loki found. His jaw went slack as he breathed, renewed urgency warming him in the absence of Thor’s hands on his skin, that same urgency spurring him into movement. He wanted _so much_ , it was hard to know where to start. 

Thor’s cock, though, having been the subject of no small amount of fantasies—well, that seemed like an excellent first choice.

Though Loki longed to put his mouth there, feel the weight of it and show his brother exactly how certain he was about the extent of his desires, he realized with some frustration how quickly it might reveal his inexperience. Or reveal his lie, anyway. He took Thor in hand instead, suspecting his own practice would well enough mask that—despite what he’d told his brother to persuade him—he’d been with no one else. He had _wanted_ no one else.

And then, with his long fingers wrapped around the warm thickness of his brother’s arousal, Loki knew he would _never_ want anyone else.

From above him there came a low, rumbling groan, a twitch of Thor’s hips to meet the pressure of his hand. It was deeply thrilling; for a moment, Loki could only watch the head of Thor’s cock push between his fingers, fixated, his breath held deep in his chest. He kept going, confidence building as his heart pounded, until all he could hear was the rasp of his brother breathing, the increasingly slick sound of his fingers working over Thor’s cock between them.

It was hypnotic, for a time. Thor had said little all evening, but Loki found that low gasps and breathy whispers of his name was more than reward enough for his patience. All that he needed to keep him going, at least for a while.

But the moment Thor reached up to him, strong hands wrapping around his thin shoulders and squeezing nearly enough to bruise, it snapped Loki from the spell he’d found himself in. His fingers tightened briefly around the heat of Thor against his palm, such acute need rising in him he nearly cried. 

Words were difficult, particularly when the only clear thought in his mind was simply, _please, oh, please—_ so he didn’t try to speak. Easier, instead, to pull at Thor with care as he reclined back to the bed, guiding his brother once more between his thighs. He’d waited, he’d been more patient than he could have ever imagined he could be—but there was no need for patience any longer.

They were here. Thor _wanted_ him. That much was perfectly clear. He’d held the evidence of it in his hand.

Though Thor seemed to hesitate above him once more, it was only for a second. A breath. And then Loki simply stopped thinking about anything at all as Thor took hold of his knees and firmly placed himself between them, spreading his legs wide. 

The gulf between them in size had never been as painfully clear to Loki as it was in that instant. Thor was so broad, so much _taller_ , and the thoughts of everything Loki would have his brother do to him were nearly suffocating. But Thor moved so _slowly,_ fair hair falling over his brow, obscuring what Loki could see of his face.

“Please,” Loki felt himself say, again and again. “Brother—”

Impatient, Loki reached confidently between them then, exhaling in a shiver to feel Thor’s cock in his hand once more. This time, however, his touch guided it with purpose between his legs.

There were spells he could use for this. That he had often planned to use for this.

Before he could speak to even offer their use, Thor was already in motion. In silence, Thor leaned over Loki’s frame towards the bedside table, retrieving a small decanter with unexpected familiarity. Again, the sense arose in Loki that his brother seemed strangely at ease, given how long he had resisted this possibility. He hadn’t even realized anyone had used this lodge in some time.

Loki frowned at the thought, but quickly became distracted by better things—such as Thor’s eyes on him, intently watching without a word as he unstoppered the bottle, chest rising and falling with each breath. The sight, moments later, of Thor working a hand over himself, thick cock glistening and obscenely wet between Loki’s thighs.

 And everything from there…it happened so quickly. Steps he would revisit a thousand times in exquisite detail, for his pleasure and agony both. 

Thor lifted him like nothing; Loki was virtually weightless, as far as his mighty brother was concerned. Gone was the hesitant pace of moments ago. Thor now moved with determination like a man possessed, and it was _perfect_. Everything he had dreamt of, since the first time he had looked at his brother and known what lust was. Loki could only hold his breath as Thor quite nearly bent him in half, knees hooked over his brother’s shoulders, and waited to be possessed in turn.

It hurt, it did—but he knew it would. Wanting it for as long as he had could still not have prepared him for the reality of it, the weight of Thor crushing him into the bed, the intimate agony of his brother pushing inside. It was an ache that seemed to stab through him without end, the sensation sending him very nearly out of his own body even as his flesh yielded to that first slow, relentless thrust.

Oh, it _really_ hurt. But it didn’t matter. He heard himself gasp sharply in the quiet—but he voiced no complaint, for he had captured Thor’s gaze and held it fearlessly as Thor pushed in and in. 

It seemed to take forever, with Loki’s breath coming shallowly, his eyes unfocused as he watched Thor’s cock disappear between their bodies. And then it was done, Thor was inside him fully, blue eyes watching him with a tenderness Loki did not even know how to name. 

This is what he wanted, he thought. He wanted this. For Thor’s eyes to fall on him with nothing but a longing that matched his own. To be the whole of Thor’s focus and love, the center of his brother’s brilliant world, for Thor to take his pleasure with _him_ and nowhere else.

And the beast that had lived in Loki, clawing and desperate and hungry all his life, it… _quieted_. He had never known such peace. There was no room for anything in him now but Thor, the heat and thickness of him, and so Loki could only softly moan _yes_ in the space between them. _Keep going_.

For a moment, Thor hesitated at the breathless sound of his voice. But again, that look overcame him, determination taking hold in place of concern. When Thor moved, the world seemed to tremble, and Loki was helpless but to take the force of it—made helpless by his own yearning, perhaps, even more so than by Thor’s great strength.

And Loki found, as Thor began to fuck him gently, that any physical pleasure seemed a distant, almost irrelevant consideration. Despite the pain, despite everything, he felt...satisfied. It was a strange, surprising thing, and not a feeling he was particularly familiar with.

Only ever with Thor, wasn’t it? The satisfaction that he felt as he so carefully incited Thor into settling scores for him, be it retaliation against Tyr, or coming to his defense against those who had not particularly enjoyed Loki’s jokes and tricks at their expense. That same satisfaction had filled him every time Thor squeezed his shoulder, the nape of his neck, and smiled at him with such naked affection.

Even then, those moments had left him wanting more. Until this. A warmth and fullness pressing into him so completely, so much that he felt faint with it, and he finally wanted for nothing else. He could not even imagine wanting anything but this.

There were moments, as Thor bore down on him over and over, where some sensation sparked in his belly, intense enough to make him gasp each time. Distantly, Loki suspected he could probably _learn_ to like it, but the lack didn’t trouble him. His cock ached insistently between them, and he only ignored it. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was _Thor_. Loki couldn’t look away from him at all, eyes half-lidded yet fixed to his brother’s face, flushed so red with exertion and arousal. He only wished Thor would speak to him, though Loki did not know what he might like to hear.

He was not so similarly troubled in trying to find words to _say_ , however. His mind was on fire, a thousand words welling up in his throat—perhaps not as silvered as usual, but sincere nonetheless. Every time Thor pressed him to the bed, filling him to the breaking point, his brother groaning in his pleasure, it knocked all thoughts of poetry from Loki’s mind. All the sweet words he might have said, gone, leaving him with only heat and lust.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Loki blurted, when the words threatened to overwhelm him and he could barely stand it. Thor’s thrusts seemed to stutter in surprise—a sensation Loki found he did not mind—but his brother did not otherwise respond.

Loki worked to catch his breath in the silence, and reached up to wrap his pale fingers around his brother’s sun-kissed shoulders. Thor was so broad, there was such an expanse for his knees and his hands to share. And he kept going, whispering even as Thor seemed to knock the air from his lungs, the thoughts from his head. “I knew,” he said. “I knew if I could just show you, you would feel it, too—”

Thor didn’t reply. His forehead seemed to tighten in concentration, in thought, his hips canting forward with such ease. Thor was moving more steadily then, Loki noted with some relief, pleased that his body had not betrayed his desires with inconvenient limitations. His discomfort hadn’t really lessened, though at least it no longer felt as if Thor might split him apart. He could take it. That thought alone gave Loki some strange, vicarious sense of pleasure—he could take it, and next time would be even easier.

Next time. _Norns_. Loki bit down on his lip, a muffled thread of a moan escaping him that had nearly nothing to do with the way Thor’s cock worked inside him. Maybe. He thought he might be warming to it a little bit.

But—next time? The possibilities seemed to spin out, almost uncontrollably. He knew his open hunger for Thor had always been unacceptable to those at court, as natural as it felt to him. Could it be different at home now, knowing Thor had come to feel the same? He wasn’t so certain, though it was gratifying to think about just what could be, upon their return to Asgard.

Loki would tell everyone if he could. It would thrill him to be at Thor’s side always, for it to be known what they were to each other, but he knew that was one thing they could not have. But at the least, he would be satisfied if this was not the only time they could be together in private.

It didn’t have to be, did it?

Again, the words welled up in him, buoyed by hope, and Loki let them spill out. “Next time,” he gasped. It was getting harder to talk, his head spinning with the intensity of Thor rocking inside him. “I could use my mouth, if you want? You could teach me how you like it.”

 _Everything_ Thor liked, he wanted to be able to give, Loki realized. He felt dazed, but once the words came, he found there was so much more he longed to say. Thor had to know, had to understand the depth of his devotion.

“No one has to know,” he continued, in a whisper. Thor’s movements seemed to go unsteady, stuttering in short, rapid thrusts, a sensation Loki curiously lifted his hips to experience better. Breathless, each word pitched nearly to a cry, he kept going. “But I could come to your room late, conceal myself—oh, you can come to _mine_ , whenever you want.”

In an instant, Loki felt his mouth go dry at the thought. And it was _staggering_ , just how much he wanted that, aching at the image of Thor’s body above him in his cluttered room, his brother fucking him with familiar ease as he moaned into his own sheets. It felt like an old fantasy, one greatly improved now that he knew exactly what it would be like.

But Thor, in that same instant, stopped moving entirely. The room went so quiet so suddenly it was like falling through ice, the only sound yet remaining that of his own blood rushing through his head. And Loki did not understand.

Confused, he sputtered in some quiet protest, and tried to shake his head clear of his more distracting thoughts. Thor—he couldn’t have _finished_ , surely? Loki could feel him still, intimately and impossibly hard, and as he frowned in his displeasure, he came to realize that Thor trembled where he held himself upright.

“Thor?” Loki murmured, sounding weak and shaky to his own ears. The sudden stop had left him reeling. It was much harder to ignore his discomfort with Thor frozen above him, yet keeping him bent in half and deeply penetrated.

And finally, Thor did speak, though Loki hardly recognized his voice when it came.

“I didn’t…” his brother said, as though the words were choked out of him. He shook his head, and Loki could see where his eyes were red-rimmed and wet. Gone was the look of fondness, of determination. Loki barely recognized the man above him. “I never thought—”

And where he lay against the bed, Loki felt himself grow very cold and very still. “What’s wrong?” he heard himself ask, as though removed from the situation. Something familiar started to burn in his chest, a nervous, rising hysteria that made it difficult to breathe.

Thor exhaled in a shudder between their bodies, his hands shaking. Where he rested inside Loki, the tension lessened in increments, until it was impossible to notice how soft he had become.

 _Don’t_ , Loki thought. _Please don’t_. But the words came anyway, and everything went so wrong.

“I have made a grave mistake,” said Thor, hollowly. “I should not have done this.”

 “What?” Loki gasped, eyes wide, but Thor wasn’t looking at him. Lurching into movement, Thor stiffly let Loki’s legs slide off his shoulders. It was as gentle as he could seemingly manage, Loki still jolted in pain and shock, particularly as Thor’s cock slipped from his body.

 _No,_ he thought, over and over. He hurt, and he felt empty, in a way that went far beyond physical. His arms did not seem to want to respond to him, but he managed to grasp at his brother’s shoulders before Thor could try to pull away entirely.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his throat tight with distress. He could still feel where Thor had been, the shape of him inside, as though he were irrevocably altered.

Thor still did not look at him. His gaze was unfocused, and then he shook his head.

“I thought—” Thor started, and despite how closely Loki clung to him, his voice seemed to come from so far away. “I thought perhaps if I went through with it, if I gave you what you desired… You might at last be satisfied, and give up this destructive dream. That we then would be at peace once more.”

Loki stared at him as he spoke, frozen. _Went through with it?_

“I was wrong,” Thor continued. “I have only ruined you, and for what?”

 _Went_ **_through_ ** _with it?_

“No,” Loki whispered in a tight, bitter exhalation. “No, you didn’t…you haven’t— _ruined me?_ You’re such a _fool—_ ”

Thor didn’t argue. His head seemed to hang, looking more miserable by the moment. He didn’t seem to notice when Loki’s hands fell away, tightening into fists against the bed.

He had _planned_ this. Loki trembled violently with the knowledge, sick with rage. Thor had planned it, everything—but instead of claiming what was rightfully his, what Loki so desperately wanted to give him, he was backing down. They could have this, and yet Thor denied them both. Loki had never known his brother to be a coward; the very thought twisted something inside him, bitter and unkind.

“I’m so sorry, brother,” said Thor, and Loki flinched from the words in disgust. Oh, that _tone_ , he couldn’t stomach it. Thor reached for him once more, his sad blue eyes imploring and filled to the brim with shame. “Could you ever forgive me for what I’ve done to you?”

In fury, Loki could only howl. Rejected, enraged, he pushed Thor off of him. His face felt hot, wet, but worse was Thor; brave, golden Thor, moving away from him like a kicked dog, his expression vacant and forlorn.

After that, speaking to him did little, nor shouting, pulling at his hair, and Loki tried all. Thor accepted his abuses, every cruel insult he could think of, not once lifting a hand to defend himself. His throat worked in silence, his red-rimmed eyes staring at the far wall all the while.

Nothing would get a rise from him, but eventually Loki’s voice cracked, and he could no longer continue. His words reduced to ugly sobs, betrayal twisting inside him like a knife. And then, Thor simply stood up and dressed. He left the room, then the lodge, and wandered out into the dark, snowy woods alone.

 

* * *

 

By morning, Thor had returned. Loki knew because he had not slept at all, tearing the room apart with his hands when magic did not satisfy him. If Thor noticed the state of the bedroom, he said nothing. His eyes were darkly lined, weary, and even now —even after what he had done, haggard as he was with his shame, Loki bitterly longed for him still.

Upon his return to the lodge, Thor barely met his eyes, and only spoke long enough to tell him that the horses were ready. That it was time to go back home.

They did not discuss it.

They went home.

And nothing was ever the same between them.

A hundred years passed, a thousand, and Thor never looked at him as he once did. Only ever full of shame, of guilt, of which Loki had never known, and refused to know. What was broken between them stayed broken, and then over time became much worse.

In response, Loki threw himself at anyone, at anything. At a thousand foul deeds to force Thor to look at him with something other than that sad, awful gaze. Anything to compel the fullness of Thor’s attention and bask once more in the burn of it. It was an all-consuming need, one that fueled him through the next thousand years, _more,_ and—

And then, eventually, he died.

He died hungry, wanting, unfulfilled of all of his desires—Thor’s love so chief among them; perhaps the only one that truly mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...it gets better? :’) Parts 2 and 3 are done and in the process of being edited, but should be up this week as well.
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](https://spacehussy.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacehussy).


	2. beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought you would be happier,” Thor said, not unkindly, his lips twitching into a shy smile. 
> 
> Loki wasn’t expecting that; at that moment, he was so many things. The statement startled him into a laugh, and he nodded, perhaps too urgently. 
> 
> “I’m happy,” Loki replied, returning his brother’s cautious smile. “I am.”

When he came back—when Thor _brought_ him back—his desires were much the same.

Perhaps not at first, no. Loki couldn’t tell from the outside if the boy was cursed as he had been, shackled to love and long for the brother that had given him this second life. But once they were one and the same, and Loki looked up at Thor through the child’s stolen eyes, it made no difference. The need returned to him as readily as breath filled his lungs, exactly as it had been before.

As though his yearning for Thor was so deeply ingrained in him he could never truly escape it.

A stubborn creature in his first life, he had long imagined death would not suit him. Though Loki had long ago put in place the means to restore himself if possible, he had not imagined, back then, that the task would be undertaken by _Thor_.

Thor. The brother who had spurned him, rejected what was possible between them, what they could have had together; that brother had missed him so much that he sought to bring him back, reborn anew, and ostensibly innocent of all past crimes—and, unknowingly, provided Loki a vessel with which to restore his _true_ self.

Because Thor missed him, despite everything.

And so Loki found that it was not enough to have a new body, a new life, a blank slate—all so full of potential. It wasn’t enough to simply live in the shell of the little brother Thor thought to get a fresh start with.

A little brother he had not _ruined_ , in his words.

No, none of that was enough, not when he hungered still. He suffered the same endless, gnawing desire at even the thought of his brother, of Thor’s hands and his eyes and his mouth. Loki wanted what he always wanted: Thor. In all the ways Loki could have him, Loki wanted him. The desire had plagued his first life and driven him ceaselessly to all of his worst mistakes. But now he had a second chance.

His new body had not only a clean slate, but a loving brother, one desperate to make amends for past violations. Thor was already in a state of such remorse, boundlessly eager to please and care for Loki’s child-self.

It was almost too easy, to just think what he could do with the gift of an unburdened soul and beautiful Thor’s renewed trust. Loki imagined it often while trapped in a child’s form, so limited without the magic he’d grown accustomed to in his past life. All he _had_ was time, and in it he wondered about the thousand myriad ways he could turn Thor’s poor head around, to twist and toy with him.

But he had to wait. Though Loki’s mind was alight with all of his plans, his body was too juvenile, and rushing was a mistake he was committed to leaving behind in his previous life. And as he orchestrated the means by which to speed up his physical development, it served as a rare distraction from his thoughts of Thor, the all-consuming need for his affection and love.

Strange, that—but not something he had the time to properly examine. Loki spent months in that state, far apart from Thor and letting his schemes where his brother was concerned gather dust in the corners of his mind. There was too much to focus on, he told himself, as though he must be convinced. There would be time for those games later, once he could devote himself to it fully.

That day did come, when he had accomplished his goal and returned to his brother changed, and this time they were nearly of a height once more. Loki enjoyed one singular moment of pleasure as Thor’s eyes met his in surprise and confusion, mouth pulling in a familiar if hesitant smile. His own heart pounded with triumph at what he had accomplished, at the fondness in his brother’s expression, what possibilities his new form could offer the two of them, _together_ …

And then the moment passed, and Loki knew.

He was wrong: it wasn’t like it was before.

The longing was there, of course. It was a familiar ache, a pit in his chest he’d nursed and ignored in turn for more than a thousand years. This time, however— _he_ was the one who felt different. Not as though he were starved, but simply warm in Thor’s presence, and slightly unsteady. To look at his brother reminded him of all that he desired, but Loki found that as he turned his mind to thoughts of engineering some opportunity to achieve it, that warm feeling went terribly… _cold_.

He knew one more thing then, as well: _he_ was not who he thought he was.

He was Loki, of course. Was, is, will be. Yet he was not a perfect copy, he came to understand, but a flawed one. He must be; he must have come back wrong somehow, in some small yet critical way he had not fully understood until that moment.

Because he had never known guilt, before. Not in his previous life, not in the way he knew it here, now, in the second. It was a consuming force in its own right, burrowed deep in him, and tempering the bottomless well of desire and need he’d only ever known.

Vexed, Loki worked to push himself through it. He decided—hoped—that guilt could only ever be a temporary condition for a creature such as he, much like an illness, a weakness he could recover from if he chose to do so. He knew that he must only uncover the fracture at the core of him, excise whatever thing was broken in him, and then he would be restored.

 

* * *

 

Except...he wasn’t.

Perhaps the full potential of a fresh slate took hold of him, over time— _infected_ him—and Loki gave into the pursuit with abandon. He wasn’t so certain about the possibility for true redemption, but guilt burned and ate away at him, growing worse the longer he ignored it. Setting himself to Freyja’s tasks seemed to soothe it, in increments, at least for a time.

Often, Loki wondered if his memories were incomplete, even then. He thought he could recall the breadth of his ambitions in his previous life, the schemes he had long planned and all the old scores he ached to settle. Yet despite the clarity of those memories, he found that somehow the desire had abandoned him to enact hardly any of it.

All of his old rages, resentments and jealous pangs… He could remember them, but they felt removed from him. And that sense of separation only grew more impassable by the day.

Except, of course, as his desires related to his brother. Guilt tore at him, that was undeniable, but so too did his longing for Thor, resulting a beast in him worse than he had ever known it. He was at war with himself, and unable to see a path clear of it.

And so, guilty, burning with it and regardless of his own turmoil, Loki plotted—because that’s who he _was_. That was what he _did_. It was, he thought, at the heart of what he knew how to be, if everything else had abandoned him.

Besides, he wanted only one thing. He was willing to make amends for other crimes, to even mean it as much as someone like him could. But he could not rid himself of the desire that had fueled him over centuries, his need for the satisfaction denied to him in his first life. He had a chance now, even better than before, for all he had learned in his previous attempts.

And yet after everything, his patience, his scheming for Thor’s intimate graces over months and months in his new body… When it happened at last, Loki thought he might be the more surprised between the two of them.

They were busy men, on Midgard. Loki did not see Thor often, not in ways that gave them much time to speak privately. He read about his brother, saw him on the news, following Thor’s deeds as most anyone else on the planet did: from afar, whilst longing at his perfection.

But Thor would visit him, sometimes. It was risky in a number of ways, as there was much Thor did not know about him and could not know. And, if Loki’s memories served him right, his self control in his brother’s presence had always been weakest when it was just the two of them. His plans hinged on his own patience, on wearing Thor down slowly, and waiting for the moment to best take advantage of his brother’s terrible guilt and love for him.

Therefore he knew it would serve him poorly to let his self control slip, and to get ahead of the plot. But…that night, Thor was different with him, in some way Loki could not name. Unguarded maybe—warmer, more familiar. Somehow.

They ate and they drank together, and as the night wore on, Thor’s touch would linger on his shoulder, his gaze growing so openly fond as they conversed. Each time, Loki felt his body flush with desire, his heart pounding hard at the contact, made even worse when Thor seemed to catch himself and pull away for a while. As though he seemed to realize, over and over, that he was crossing the line he himself had placed between them.

As the hours passed, it happened again and again. A dozen moments where something seemed to start and stop, until he felt lightheaded with his arousal. And although Loki made no move to act on it, it didn’t matter in the end. His body gave him away, much as it had when he was a young man the first time around.

The conversation died between them, try as he might to keep it going. But Thor had noticed by then, the flush in Loki’s cheeks, the shiver in his shoulders under the weight of his brother’s strong hand.

Taking a sharp breath, Loki’s eyes darted quickly to Thor, dreading what he might see with his plans slipping from his control. He remembered his brother’s horror from before—the sadness, awful shame and remorse, and braced himself for that again.

Yet as their eyes met, Loki found none of those things. And in that moment, his plans evolved.

Thor looked—surprised, mostly. Quietly at a loss. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from where it had rested on Loki’s shoulder, but he did not leap away from where they sat together. The room was quiet, the silence strained, and Loki took a chance.

“Do you think it’s sinister that I desire you?” he asked, and he thought it was meant to be coy, maybe even embarrassed. Once the words had left him him, however, they seemed uncomfortably sincere.

Thor did not answer him immediately. Something new twisted in Loki’s belly then, as the silence continued to stretch: doubt. He didn’t care for it, and pushed himself through it. Some truths made the lie better, he told himself. The game was more risky, but the reward sweeter. He remembered that much, at least, from before.

Thor exhaled at last, and leaned forward onto his elbows. His ears were pink, and he was clearly uncomfortable, but he still had not pulled away.

“I had thought…” Thor began, his tone subdued. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and scrubbed a hand over his face as he exhaled. “I don’t know. That you would be free of this, that it might be left behind in your former life, and trouble you no longer.”

“I don’t really remember,” Loki lied. Thor knew he remembered some things—in fact, many things—but clearly his brother had chosen to believe that shared memories did not make the old and new Loki the same man. That the two of them could enjoy all the benefits of their long, tangled history, with little of its baggage. Loki was inclined to let him believe it still, as it served him well to control the narrative about what he did and did not remember.

At the thought, that sensation of unease gripped him anew; Loki ignored it. He continued, more quietly, “I only know that I care for you above all else.”

It was not a lie, but to weaponize the truth in such a way nearly made it so. He could see the effect it had on Thor, how his brother fidgeted where he sat, the flush from the tip of his ears spreading over his cheeks. He clearly did not know how to respond, so Loki continued after a breath, his voice soft as spider-silk.

“What memories I have aren’t always clear. I don’t know what it was like before, but…” Loki trailed off, considering all of the things he _could_ say, to convince his brother once more.

 _You brought me back_ , _you said you would do anything for me._ The words well up in him, making him ache. _You would deny me this one thing, after all that?_

He didn’t say any of it. He didn’t need to profess to his brother that he was not innocent in this manner, though at least it wouldn’t be a lie this time.

“Will you let me?” Loki asked instead, the words whispered and imploring. “Please.”

Thor had not met his eyes in some time, fingers folded together over his knees as he seemed deep in thought. Loki thought perhaps he had overplayed his hand, pushed too far too fast once again. Yet as the silence between them continued to stretch, it seemed more weighty than cold. Something building, like before, a tension he began to feel so intimately it made him ache down to his fingertips.

And then, as Loki held his breath tight in his chest, Thor exhaled heavily. Thor turned, looked at him, and extended a steady hand between them. An invitation, simple and unspoken, and for a moment Loki could only stare.

It…worked. In that instant, the breath between Thor’s offer and his acceptance, a traitorous thought rose in him: it _shouldn’t_ have worked.

Years, he remembered. It had taken _years_ in his past life to get Thor to even acknowledge what he wanted, to see him as anything other than a child to be coddled, and finally claim him. Even if Thor had rejected and betrayed him in the end, too ashamed of himself to go through with it, reaching that point had taken ages. What could be so different now?

Loki didn’t hesitate, despite the sudden turmoil of his thoughts. He moved carefully only to disguise his own desperate, yearning need, to not reveal so much so quickly as he had before. He guided himself into Thor’s lap gently, for the first time in more than a thousand years, and the memories followed.

Memories of that first time. The only time. The two of them together, Thor so readily convinced despite years of refusal. Loki hadn’t been suspicious of it then, desperate as he was, so confident in his seduction, and now he couldn’t help _but_ be suspicious.

At least Thor looked nothing like he did that day. Loki regarded his brother from where he sat astride his powerful thighs, cautious as he brought his hands up to frame Thor’s handsome face. There was guilt there—hard not to see it, or perhaps this time he was better at looking for it—but much more. Such terrible fondness, a warmth that Loki could practically feel against his skin like sunlight.

As he stared, Thor turned his head where it was held, pressing a kiss to Loki’s palm. The sensation darted through him like a shock, and the sight turned his blood so hot he could almost forget that he was Jotunn. He opened his mouth then, to plead for Thor to do it again, to put his mouth anywhere he might please, but his brother surprised him.

“I thought you would be happier,” Thor said, not unkindly, his lips twitching into a shy smile.

Loki wasn’t expecting that; at that moment, he was so many things. The statement startled him into a laugh, and he nodded, perhaps too urgently.

“I’m happy,” Loki replied, returning his brother’s cautious smile. “I am.”

It wasn’t a lie—it wasn’t _meant_ to be a lie—yet it twisted inside him regardless. Before the discomfort could trouble him further, Thor reached up to him. Thor curled a hand around the nape of his neck, tugging him carefully down, kissing him with such soft sincerity Loki could scarcely believe it.

He felt frozen, for just an instant, more in disbelief than fear. And then Loki very nearly sobbed for the wrench of sensation in his chest, relief and need and fear squeezing at him to the breaking point. But he loved it, he did, because he loved Thor, and gave himself to it wholly.

Thor’s mouth fit perfectly against his. He had already known it, though it had been ages since he had last enjoyed it, and he had suffered so much for the lack. Loki groaned to taste his brother again, to feel Thor’s fair hair tangled between his fingers. He felt desperate, as though at any moment Thor might change his mind and pull away—yet each time he grasped and bit down and pulled, Thor only returned his urgency with tenderness.

Again and again, uncertainty seemed to throb in his heart as steadily as desire. He wasn’t used to it, didn’t care for it, so Loki forced himself past it. He was too achingly eager to find himself wrapped in Thor’s arms, and he couldn’t let doubt ruin this for him, not when he had wanted it for so long.

They kissed for some time, while Loki denied the pangs of desperation, the impulse to get what he had long wanted before Thor came to his senses. This much, at least, Thor seemed ready to give him as he had before. And Loki, dressed simply as he often did at home on Midgard, watched Thor’s face carefully as he guided his brother’s hands to his body. He watched for reluctance, a sign Thor was having second thoughts. And if that sign _was_ there…

Well, Thor would need to be a better liar than Loki had ever known him to be.

With a rough exhale against his throat, Thor did touch him, a delicate caress for hands so powerful, and did not flinch away when Loki returned the gesture. Loki set his hands to his brother’s chest, opting to use his fingers rather than magic to loosen the fastenings of Thor’s armor, seeking warm skin below to stroke with growing desire.

Again and again, Thor did not push him away. But neither did he seem comfortable taking any move that Loki did not expressly invite. Terrified of corrupting him even then, Loki imagined. Despite everything he had known Loki to do, and what they had already done together.

But of course, Loki wasn’t meant to remember that part, was he?

Loki shook his head to dismiss the thought, the frisson of unease that settled under his skin, and took the lead. When the moment felt right, Thor’s skin hot under his palms, his brother groaning as their bodies shifted together, Loki tipped to the side and dragged Thor on top of him on the couch. When Thor merely chuckled in surprise, following without complaint or resistance, Loki could have cried for all his relief.

“I’m starting to think you like this body better than the last, brother,” Loki said, practically giddy, and did not realize his mistake until the words had left his mouth.

Thankfully Thor did not seem to catch what his thoughtless admission revealed; he only shook his head, and Loki found himself thrilled to be shushed.

“You are you, regardless,” Thor told him, settling his large frame between Loki’s splayed knees. It was a gorgeous sight, but Loki’s heart pounded fervently at the words, and for once, he could not find any of his own to respond.

Thor took his silence as indication to continue, seemingly with rediscovered confidence. Loki could only groan as Thor’s hands stripped him of his shirt, as his brother’s arms came to wrap around him and hold him in place to be kissed.

In return, Loki whimpered his muffled encouragement against Thor’s mouth. Even with his newfound boldness, Thor was gentle with him, always. Careful in a way that Loki often remembered with distaste, as though he were some fragile thing. He wanted to protest such treatment even now, perhaps find a way to subtly show his brother how he had come to like it in his past life. It was rarely like this, even with the many interchangeable and meaningless partners he had taken in the years after Thor hurt him so deeply.

But now Thor’s soft touch seared him to the bone, making him unsteady with his need, and he couldn’t speak at all. It had occurred to Loki then, in the moments after those words fell between them, with Thor’s hands on him so gentle, just why he couldn’t stand it.

He did not deserve it.

Loki felt his eyes go unfocused, staring up at the ceiling as Thor’s mouth found the column of his throat. _You are you_ , Thor had said. He sounded so certain.

 _Am I, though?_ Loki thought, with something perilously close to panic tightening in his chest.

This wasn’t how it was meant to be. He had wanted this for so long, and he had it again, yet Loki felt—strange.

He felt _awful_.

He tried to ignore it. He tried to turn his attention to Thor. To the fact that he had won, and he once more had Thor between his thighs. Everything denied to him in his past life, he could have at last, for Thor would give it to him.

Thor seemed willing to give him anything, and Loki wanted nothing more than to let him. Didn’t he?

He wanted to. He… _should_ want to. Loki felt his mouth pull into a frown even as Thor’s broad fingers slid against his lower belly. He was hard when Thor touched him, and it felt even better than he remembered, but it was too late.

He couldn’t clear his head. His thoughts were a whirlwind, dread and need ravaging him in equal measure.

Thor was willing to give him anything—because he didn’t know.

Thor didn’t _know_ that he was kissing the throat of his little brother’s murderer, a thief and an imposter. That this was no innocent expression of love and lust, but calculated to exploit Thor’s trust and affection for a brother whose only crime as of yet was to want him.

With his chest tight with anger, Loki tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t! In his past life he would readily have taken the skin of another if it meant he could have this, pretended to be anyone he needed to be, if it would please Thor for a while, and satisfy the endless clawing hunger in him.

 _Then why_ , he thought, nauseated even as he dug his fingers greedily into Thor’s shoulders. Why did he feel so terrible?

But the truth was that he knew, and he hated it.

“Thor,” he said abruptly, his voice little more than a croak. There was something in his throat, something he didn’t recognize. Words he’d never considered, and they spilled out of him in a flood. “Do you really want me? Like this? You’re not just—” 

_—going through with it?_

Those words didn’t make it out. His throat closed up around them as quick as it had opened, leaving him faintly shaking at the sudden stop.

Silence. Thor stopped kissing him, stopped touching him, seemingly frozen in surprise above him.

Some small part of Loki thought he should protest, but in truth…he thought he might be relieved, more than anything. Thor lifted his head, and for once, the first time in a thousand years, Loki had no idea how to read the look in his eyes.

For what felt like hours, but could only have been seconds, Thor stared down at him with a scrutinizing, unsure gaze. Perhaps trying to see if it were some trick, which Loki could understand. But there was nothing he could gain from this, only things he could lose, and Loki could feel the moment slipping out of his grasp like water.

“Yes,” Thor admitted, after a time. The word was a whisper, as if forced out of him, and Loki felt an awful stab through him at the shame in his brother’s voice. Thor’s throat worked visibly, swallowing hard before he continued. “I did—before. And I do now.”

Unsteady, with something quaking behind his ribs, Loki could only stare. He had never heard that before. Worse still: he had never _asked._

His memories of his first life had been fuzzy, in the beginning, as the imposter Loki—though even then, he could remember a life spent wanting Thor with a desperate, unwavering clarity. As his memories sharpened, he knew that he pursued his desire relentlessly—with scheming and flattery and twisted games—and with so little regard for the horror of those around him.

With no regard, actually. Not even for Thor, the focus of all his affections. As the memories spanning thousands of years had returned to him, Loki now could not remember his former self even once taking a moment to consider his brother’s thoughts on the matter, and what _he_ might want.

Destructive—that’s what Thor had called it, those years ago. For the Loki-that-was, it had been enough that he wanted it for both of them, and as far as that Loki had been concerned, Thor need only give in to the inevitability of it. Nothing else had mattered but his own desire.

They… truly could not be the same man, then. _That_ Loki would not have stopped, not moments away from all he had ever wanted, to merely ask if Thor felt the same; he would have been too unwilling to take the chance that the answer he heard might be _no_.

 _Too bad, then_ , Loki couldn’t help but think. He might have learned something.

It felt strange to smile, and it was not a particularly happy expression, but Loki did so anyway. He had never felt so exhausted, hollowed out—yet it was not dread or guilt that burned in him then.

“But?” Loki heard himself say, prompting his brother for the words he had not yet spoken, the words Loki could see written plainly on his face.

That look crossed Thor’s face once more, curious and unsure. His fingers curled around the back of Loki’s head, coming to card through his hair there, before eventually he sighed.

“But…” said Thor, softly. “Maybe not here, not this day, when you are still so new to this world.”

Loki could only nod, his eyes squeezing shut. He swallowed hard, shaking just so in the stillness. He had denied himself what he had always wanted, and felt like a traitor in his own skin. But perhaps he could have one thing. One small, selfish request—something that would be his, something the Loki-that-was had not treasured as he should have.

“Will you…” he started, stopped, then tried again. “Please, will you just kiss me? That’s it. That’s all I want.”

If there was hesitation, it was only for an instant, those blue eyes searching his face before Thor dipped his head low to do as asked. His lips found Loki’s brow, lingering a while; pressed next to his cheek and finally his mouth, nearly chaste at first. Only when Loki sighed for more and let his lips part did Thor lick inside, holding him through it all.

Thor would give him anything, like this. Loki knew it, and asked for the only thing he wanted, with no regret. For an imposter, it was not so much to ask for, and he knew as well that Thor would kiss him until he was asked to stop.

His couch was not large; he had liked the novelty of the fantasy, and how different it would be from the first time as he remembered it, feeling his brother cover him entirely in so limited a space. He had pictured it so many times as he settled into his stolen skin, his stolen life, all its stolen opportunities. But the night didn’t go like that at all.

By the time they did draw to a stop, both trembling slightly and aching with denied arousal, Thor was beneath him, and Loki was tucked with care against his broad chest. Half-dressed, half-hard, Loki was content and warm there, breathing deep and slow as Thor’s fingers traced his spine.

They spoke little, but Loki did not get up again, and so Thor stayed with him for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

It had been his best opportunity, a perfect plot he could follow that would lead Thor to him intimately once again. Perhaps not _that_ night, but Loki knew other chances would come, and that they might be even easier, that they would build on the anticipation created by the first. 

And…he took none of those opportunities, either. 

Loki thought about it, often. More of a daydream than a scheme, as it turned out. They were alone together only occasionally. And each time he thought to reach for Thor in a private moment, to ask if he might like to try it again, his chest seized with that unbearable dread.

 _Imposter_ , he would think. Just a shadow.

His chances came and went, slipping through his parted fingers, and they were not infinite. Later, he would know that he had always been running out the clock, waiting for his crime and deception to be revealed.

Of course it was, in time. And of course once Thor knew what he had done… nothing mattered at all.

Loki knew that his best intentions were shown to be worthless. All of his good deeds were cheapened by the first, the theft of his child-self’s body. And he had lied to Thor a hundred times in that stolen form, deceived and hurt him.

His conscience was clear of one thing, at least. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, for a while. Maybe Thor would remember, one day, and come to understand that his change of heart that night was no ploy, no game. But Thor thought he knew who Loki was, as though it could be as simple as being one version of one man and nothing else.

Even so, Loki was content to let him believe it, if it helped.

And because he was truly free, then. A real fresh slate, as much as _he_ could have deserved, with his crimes now laid bare. The murder of his child-self was a burden he would carry, but no longer one that would hang over him like an axe in the night.

Often Loki told himself it was better that way. Most of the time, it was even true. Yet even unshackled from ties to his former life, he hungered still, and imagined he would continue to. He imagined as well that if he couldn’t sate his hunger in the most obvious way, as the Loki-that-was had tried and tried, the only option left to him was…to learn to live with it, if he could.

With new resolve, Loki set himself on his own path—one that did not include Thor at all.

However temporary that might be, anyway. Even if he did his best not to seek his brother out, ignored the warm ache of his yearning, their lives were long and deeply intertwined. And because all of his roads led back to Thor, eventually.

But then at the end of that road, Loki hoped he could show his brother that he was more than the sum of just one life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to @reikah for being an incredible beta and cheerleader. This thing would be such a mess without you. ♥︎
> 
> I have a big bang check-in this weekend so it might be another few days before I can finish editing part 3. But at least this one doesn't leave off as depressing as the first part? :') 
> 
>  
> 
> u can tell me otherwise on [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacehussy) or [tumblr](https://spacehussy.tumblr.com).


	3. free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s fine,” Loki blurted, before Thor could speak again of Baldr, or he of some worse thing, with his mind prone to dark distractions. There were other truths he would speak, if he had the chance. “I was lying before, anyway. You owe me nothing. What I want from you now, I would like freely given.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the reasons I broke this into chapters rather than release it all in one go was because each third felt narratively distinct from the others. None more than this one, which has a very different tone, more reflecting where they’ve left off in recent issues. It was a *lot* of fun >:)

Something changed between them, in Niflheim.

For as long as he could, Loki had done his best to leave Thor be. He kept himself moving through the realms, seeking chaos when he was curious or bored, and thriving there for a time. Yet he had at all times felt the weight of some inevitable thing, a thread that pulled at him, until at last he saw where Thor’s world pushed against the new one he had created for himself. It was time then, he knew, to revisit that particular story.

It had been some years since Loki had seen his brother last, for all the unresolved issues that they had been left to deal with. And to then be at once thrown into an unsteady truce in dangerous territory—not to mention one of the most uncomfortable family reunions Loki could have possibly imagined—well, it was hardly ideal.

He would have called it a nightmare, but in truth they’d been through worse together. They’d put _each other_ through worse, time and again, and they had come out the other side intact. Compared to having Thor throw him beaten, bloody, and in tears in front of all of Asgard’s citizens for judgement, Thor dragging him to Hel by his hair was nearly a vacation.

After that? It was difficult for Loki to say. But he felt the shifting of something, the ground below his feet, as their paths seemed to intersect before him in new and interesting ways.

What had been broken between them, over and over, often by his own actions—it felt less impassable, perhaps. He knew they could never have again what they had had before, no. The relationship Thor had with the Loki-that-was, or the Loki that Thor _thought_ he was…

There was no putting that back together. But Loki wondered if the pieces could be taken, and perhaps turned to some other thing, new and different—as he himself had become.

And so he tried, in the days following, to better understand the threads between them once they had returned to Midgard. Far from Thor’s overpowering presence once more, it was easier to think clearly, but only just.

Because of course, from the moment his eyes fell upon Thor for the first time in more than a year, that familiar ache had returned to him. A hollowness inside his chest, like a cup waiting to be filled, and he trembled for the want of it.

Loki had had some luck putting it out of his mind while they were apart, for days and weeks and sometimes even _months_ , but in Thor’s presence, it was simply impossible. Not even a few hammers to the mouth could shake him free of it—though if that would have done the trick he might just have been cured eons ago.

Thor was, for the most part, as he had always been. Strong, golden, as brilliant in the sun as he was when they were so very young. In Loki’s eyes he was perfect still, even if he had been maimed by Malekith, or deemed unworthy by Mjolnir. Those things mattered little to Loki and the hunger inside him—not as long as Thor lived on, unbroken by such trials.

Perhaps, Loki thought, the difference was inside himself. Perhaps a better understanding of what he had been—and more: what he _could_ be. Something he had been unable to fully appreciate, in the life he lived before, when he had but one goal, one driving need that overrode all else.

One other thing Loki had come to understand as well—that he and Thor were on equal footing now. For perhaps the first time in a long while, if they had ever been before. Thor knew not only what he had done, but that he was more than merely the old Loki reborn or the child Loki that he had killed, and Thor loved him regardless. He had said so, freely.

Exiled as he was, it was no easy feat to find a place of safekeeping for what few valuables he had. It took days, though Loki felt his mother’s portrait was worth the trouble—besides, it gave him time to think, to consider how he could navigate his current standing with Thor to his advantage.

But only briefly. When the opportunity and desire came to seek Thor out once more, Loki chose only to roll the dice on the odds, and leave his schemes in another life.

* * *

 

Late in the evening, avoiding Toothgrinder and Thori was not too difficult, even on a cramped tugboat that could have fit in Thor’s childhood bedroom. Though Loki had not counted upon Thor retaining a houseguest, and was surprised to find a different brother than expected in Thor’s bunk when he slid through the wall.

A complication, but not a deterrent; besides, at least Baldr was willing to tell him where he might find Thor, even if his directions were accompanied by an unpleasant scowl. It barely registered; in truth, Baldr was gone from his mind as soon as he was out of sight. Loki may have had three brothers, but only one had ever mattered.

And below the cabin, in a cluttered and somewhat leaky section of the hull, Loki found him. Amidst a jumble of relics from across the realms and musty crates left behind from presumably the boat’s previous owners, Thor had rigged himself a makeshift hammock. His brother rested there, but was not yet asleep, and so nearly rolled to the floor with a start as Loki materialized before him in a soft shimmer of green.

“Ah, there you are,” Loki said happily, over Thor’s bark of surprise. “Gave your bed to Baldr, I see? Please extend my apologies to him in the morning, I think I might have given him a bit of a fright when I came looking for you.”

Despite the look of confused outrage on his brother’s face, Thor did not launch himself upright to strike him or cast him away—instead only took a deep and calming breath as the hammock slowly went motionless once more. Which meant things were at least going better than the last time Loki had shown up unannounced.

“Loki—” Thor sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face wearily. “It’s late, and I have no interest in whatever trouble you have brought to my door.”

Wandering the confined space (calling it a cabin would be entirely too generous), Loki laughed as he handled the relics Thor had been collecting. A few things of note, but nothing that called to him enough to pocket while visiting in good faith. Good _enough_ faith.

“No trouble today, brother,” Loki said, when he moved away from the cluttered corner and back towards Thor. He even held his palms up as he approached, not that it would give his brother much peace of mind regarding his intent. Historically speaking, anyway. “I would have texted, but I believe you still don’t have a phone. Do you need me to show you how they work?”

“I manage fine without, thank you,” Thor said, wary as always, but Loki could tell with those few words that Thor was in no hurry to evict him from the premises. Not with how Thor then relaxed where he rested, even if he still watched Loki with narrowed eyes. 

As Loki stepped closer, he weighed all the different things he would very much like to say—but Thor beat him to it, sighing loudly.

“What are you even doing here?” Thor said, as though bored by his presence. “You left suddenly, I did not expect to see you for some time.”

That was interesting, Loki felt. No, _I hoped_ ** _not_** _to see you,_ or vague mutterings about him _daring_ to show his face? They really were on new, untested ground. He liked that—the possibilities it left open to them, and that was precisely what he wanted to better understand.

But in reply, Loki hummed, and came to stand in a narrow space between his brother’s makeshift bedding and the nearest wall.

“I had business of my own—quite delayed, after all, as I had not planned to accompany you to Hel,” he said, then shrugged, smiling wide where he met Thor’s gaze. “Though I suppose it worked out, as I require something more in return for my assistance there.”

Thor frowned.

“Did you not take your payment before?”

“That’s the trouble with changing the terms of an agreement at the last moment, brother. You’ve signed a blank check, as far as I’m concerned, and left yourself quite open to additional requests,” Loki said smoothly, as though he had considered this thoughtfully over the last few days, and not at all as though he were making it up as he went along.

But Thor only squinted at his phrasing, then sighed again.

“I see your time living on Midgard has been spent wisely. And besides, I told you—I agreed to nothing.”

“Yet you aren’t demanding the return of Lady Freyja’s fine portrait,” Loki said. He made a show of investigating his dark nails, wiping off a single imaginary smudge. The motion seemed to catch Thor’s attention for a moment, before his brother eventually nodded.

“I thought it…a fair trade, in return for your help. You could have just _asked_ for the painting, you know,” said Thor.

Loki laughed despite himself. “As if you would have surrendered it if I had? You’d have accused me of intending to use it for some nefarious design.”

“…Perhaps, yes,” Thor admitted, after a moment. “Did you?”

At that, Loki couldn’t help but snort, though he was not particularly offended at the question. If anything, the argument made him strangely nostalgic, finding easy comfort in the exasperating back and forth.

“Well, it doesn’t look very good over my fireplace, but it will have to do. _No_ , you buffoon. Must we talk about this now?”

Thor threw his hands up in frustration. “It’s yours, I care not,” he said. “What _did_ you want to talk about?”

Loki was very glad he asked; in fact, it was exactly the response he had hoped for. He didn’t bother to say so, because instead he set himself into motion. It was a risk he’d taken time and again in his previous life, to the point where it felt comfortably familiar to do so here and now in the second; in a single fluid movement, he climbed astride Thor where he laid back in his hammock. That part was easier now than it had been, with his magic keeping his body near feather-light until he dispensed with it, bearing down very suddenly against Thor with his full weight. Thor was as warm as he remembered.

In response, Loki watched Thor’s eyes go wide in realization, in recognition, making it all the more easy for him to see how his brother’s pupils dilated with another reaction, hidden behind the first—one a little harder to read. It lasted only a second, long enough for Loki smile down at him fondly, before their combined weight snapped the Midgardian nails holding the hammock upright like slivers of wood.

The fall wasn’t long, though it was certainly startling. They hit the floor with a chorus of alarmed cries, accompanied by a series of dull clatters as the hammock’s components fell to the floor with them, bits of wood and metal and bedding.

Thor roared at him indignantly, then grumbled as he pulled himself up onto his elbows in the mess of his blankets. Loki had at least the grace to offer a sheepish grin in response, one Thor did not seem mollified by—but Loki couldn’t help but note that his brother had not pushed him off yet, either.

“‘ _No trouble_ ’,” Thor groused, parroting his words back to him in a most unflattering way. “If you’re going to wreck my home, can’t you at least keep it down? Baldr’s had a rough week, which you well know.”

Loki nodded, as he did know. He also knew better than to voice the first thing he thought in that moment, which was quite bluntly, _I fear it’s about to get worse_. Thor was, after all, about as well dressed for bed as he could remember his brother being, his chest bare and broad. Several patchwork blankets were all that remained between Loki and knowing if his memory of the last time he’d slipped into Thor’s bedroom at night held up as well as he remembered.

A sound spared him from having to come up with some response, as well as breaking his gaze before it could linger uncomfortably long. From a hatch above their heads there came a loud thumping, the sound of an animal scratching and sniffing.

And Thor, to Loki’s great surprise, called up without hesitation. “It’s fine, dog,” he said. “Hammock broke. Go back to sleep.”

In reply came a low, uncertain grumble, but eventually Thori’s heavy feet padded away. In moments, the sound was replaced with loud, muffled snoring—and all the while, Thor did not look away from Loki’s face.

It was something Loki—distracted by the trust in that small gesture, trust he had not expected—only became truly aware of once the commotion had settled, and Thori’s distant Helhound snorting had faded to the very edge of his attention.

“What could I possibly still owe you for?” Thor asked him then, and Loki felt himself nearly jolt. Somehow that was not what he expected, given their physical arrangement, but it was fine.

His throat worked wordlessly for just a moment, then Loki took a breath and found the thread once more.

“Well, I restored your brother, did that not not please you?” he asked, smiling.

Thor returned his smile readily enough, though it contained an edge. “It did,” Thor conceded, with a dip of his head. “But as you may recall, you also _murdered_ him in the first place.”

“And you,” Loki said warmly. “Yet here you both are.”

The moment seemed more like returning to an old, half-hearted argument than something more serious, but for a heartbeat, Loki felt an odd tug inside him. A memory, a guilt he’d never truly buried, and for a second the voice of his child-self seemed to ring in his ears, nearly deafening.

He wanted to say something. But he had made his apologies, for what good they were worth, and the weight of _that_ conversation seemed too heavy a burden for this moment to bear. Not to mention that Thor had already taken his anger and grief out on Loki’s stolen body more than once, and had carried the marks of it for some time.

And right now, Thor allowed him this, and still did not push him away. That seemed too precious a thing to risk losing, for the sake of one wrong out of many they had done each other.

“It’s fine,” Loki blurted, before Thor could speak again of Baldr, or he of some worse thing, with his mind prone to dark distractions. There were other truths he would speak, if he had the chance. “I was lying before, anyway. You owe me nothing. What I want from you now, I would like freely given.”

Thor squinted at him, at once deeply suspicious and not trying to conceal it. Loki, for his part, could not help but be proud of him for it.

“And that?” Thor asked, hazarding the words softly between them.

“What I have always wanted,” Loki said, and smiled sharp and lustful, shifting his weight where he rested on Thor’s thighs. That he had kept himself from doing so for that long was a feat in and of itself.

In silence, Thor stared for a long moment, as if uncomprehending. Then his ears turned terribly pink, and Loki only smiled wider.

“Loki…” Thor shook his head, though the flush seemed to be spreading to his cheeks. “Have we not been here before? Have you forgotten how that ended?”

Hard to forget, really. But Loki kept his unpleasant commentary on the matter to himself, merely nodding and moving along. There were no more secrets left between them. If this could ever work, he did not know if there would be a better time to find out.

“I thought you might say that,” he said, with his most winsome affectation. “But, brother—we’ve changed so much since the first time around, don’t you think? You’ve lost an arm, I _died_ , and you _swear_ now. Oh, the mouth on you. Does Mother know?”

For several moments, Thor only stared at him with a furrowed brow, nothing but wariness tensing his large frame. Even then, Loki ached for him, with a pitched and fervent desire, and felt himself bite the inside of his mouth just waiting for some response. Wanting it and dreading it, so much so that it burned.

Thor did not toss him to the side, as he had done so many times before.

Instead—Thor _laughed_. It was a startling, yet warming sight, for Loki had heard his brother laugh in cruel and unkind ways, and this was not that at all. It was low and unquestionably fond, if maybe a little exasperated too.

“You are relentless, as always,” Thor said, and though his tone was warm, Loki watched his brother’s gaze drop away from him. Thor seemed to stare into the distance, at some point beyond Loki, and it was hard to say exactly where his mind had wandered to. Though Loki felt he could guess.

The mood could turn, Loki knew. It could shift so easily in some other direction, one out of his control and retreat into the dark corners of their history he would be keen to avoid.

Determined to not let that happen, Loki forced a smile, and reached forward to frame Thor’s handsome face in his hands. To his relief, it had the intended result, snapping his brother from his brief distraction and compelling Thor to look back up at him with an almost apologetic smile.

It had another result as well, one Loki had not intended. It struck him then, a realization he’d tiptoed around the edges of, without fully understanding.

He didn’t want to trick Thor into this, nor even pressure him through some unseen machination. He had not really wanted that in the beginning either, as much as it had become second nature at some point.

“I am relentless, always have been,” Loki agreed quietly. “But I was not lying before—I want this from you, freely given. I only ever wanted you to desire me, as I desired you.”

It was too much to explain further, how the need had consumed him so, since as far back as he could remember. Love, then lust, both creating a beast in him that only ever seemed to quiet in Thor’s presence. With Thor’s hands on him, his mouth. Thor’s complete focus, as he had now.

“I know,” Thor whispered, after a time. “I know.” He seemed to want to hang his head, some flash of shame in his beautiful gaze, but he did not fight where Loki held him. And a moment later, Thor reached up, curling one of his own hands around Loki’s, as if only to touch him.

“You were so young, when this fixation began,” Thor continued quietly. Although he did not look away, his gaze was unfocused, thoughtful. “At first, all I could think to do was ignore whatever mischief you were playing at, and hope you would find something else to entertain you.”

 _That’s_ what he had thought? Loki didn’t even know why he was taken aback by the admission. How _like_ Thor, to assume his desires had been part of some prank… Well, not that the theory wouldn’t have been without merit.

But the words stirred a memory as well, some familiar disquiet in the back of his mind that left Loki unsettled, his chest tightening for just a moment. He ignored it the way he always did, sidestepping the unexpected vulnerability of the moment with a laugh, a crooked grin, and a thoughtless remark.

“Many men would have enjoyed having some young thing making advances at them, so very desperate to please,” Loki teased, forcing his voice into a purr.

He regretted it immediately, wondering what else Thor might have had to say with that faraway look in his eyes, but it was too late. The tension broke, and Thor snorted and laughed, something Loki felt, perched atop him as he still was, rumbling through him like a physical thing.

“Not this man,” Thor said then, indignantly. “Not that young. Loki, you were a _child_.”

 _Spoilsport_ , Loki thought, without rancor, and somewhat unsure if it was directed at his brother or himself.

“So no, as you are here and _you_ brought it up, I would tell you that I did _not_ enjoy how you threw yourself at me time and again. Do you know how many talks I endured with Mother over your behavior? I begged her to speak with you, and she insisted you would grow out of it.”

That was news. Loki _did_ remember speaking with her once, even if he wasn’t paying very close attention. Something about biological urges, or the importance of self control. Details he had little interest in at the time, not when he cared for only two things: his studies, and the time spent watching Thor train in the yard below his windows.

But to learn that she and Thor had not only known, that they had _discussed_ it, that they both hoped he would simply outgrow his infatuation… It probably should not have made him laugh, but it did.

“Clearly, I did not,” Loki drawled, amused now.

“I noticed,” Thor said wryly, echoing his laughter.

Loki could not help but realize, as seconds ticked by, that Thor had not yet given him an answer. Not even a _no,_ which he was prepared to accept, as much as it would hurt. His brother had equivocated, but also allowed Loki to sit astride him for the entirety of their conversation without complaint.

“Thor,” he began cautiously, taking care in his tone as he searched himself for words. It was strange, to find himself struggling in that regard, but…again, Thor always caught him off guard.

“I cared for you greatly, even then,” Thor said. His blue gaze was steady where their eyes met, and Loki felt his breath go very thin. “And I care for you still. Despite everything.”

Something fluttered in Loki then, a nervous twinge that all at once felt familiar and entirely new. It didn’t feel like dread at all. He might even call it pleasant, though it left him on edge. Unsure of what to do with himself, he let his hands fall from Thor’s jaw to his shoulders, as if to keep himself upright.

“Tread lightly, brother,” he said, letting a sly smile tug at his lips. “Surely you remember how our last heart-to-heart went?” An enchanted blade through the chest would be difficult to forget, he imagined. But he was unsettled still, unsure of what to make of the bubble of nervous warmth in his chest.

There was no need, as it turned out. A different warmth sparked inside him but an instant later, as Thor’s artificial hand came to trace his wrist and followed a path up his arm and to his shoulder. The contact lingered slowly, squeezing and soft. Imploring for his attention, maybe. Or perhaps Thor was merely seeing what he might be allowed to do.

Loki stared at that hand for a moment, but then his brother shook his head, sighing into the air between them.

“I only meant…”

In a rush, Loki nodded. “No, I know,” he said, speaking over him, though he had no idea. He wasn’t trying to be cruel, but his heart was pounding, and Thor’s hand felt so hot against his shoulder he thought he might come away burned.

But Thor lifted that heavy hand, and came to press it to the side of his face instead. And Loki knew, then, that _he_ was the one on fire, for the uru felt nearly ice cold held against his cheek. The sensation left him lightheaded, the proximity and all its potential almost more than he could handle at once. His breath left him in a desperate shiver of arousal as he looked down once more to see Thor’s eyes still on him.

“Do you?” said Thor.

The silence pressed in on him, and this time, Loki shook his head.

He didn’t know. But he wanted to.

Thor’s mouth twitched in a fond smile in return, quiet for but a moment in thoughtful deliberation. Loki waited for him to find his words, content to lean into Thor’s gentle touch and feel his entire body throb in hopeful desire with each heartbeat.

“I wanted to say that I wish things had been different, before. That perhaps we could have spoken of this thing between us, and come to some understanding,” Thor said quietly, his fingertips tracing the side of Loki’s face as he spoke.

Loki nodded, though he struggled with distraction. The cool touch of Thor’s uru fingertips against his skin was almost too much. For a breath, it was difficult to focus on anything else but that, wondering just what that pressure might be like against some other, more delicate part of him. How it would feel against his wrists, his throat, sliding between his lips—or perhaps he could come to know how well it conducted his brother’s power, in some fashion.

In a remarkable display of control, for himself, Loki managed not to say any of the things on the tip of his tongue. It was for the best, he reasoned, as the look in Thor’s eyes was far more soft than heated, and Loki could feel the unsteady tension building in the air between them. He could feel how easy it would be to ruin.

And…Loki did not desire that, not at all.

“Well,” he said in reply, grounding himself with another shiver. “I am here now, for what it’s worth.”

Thor nodded. “It is worth something, to me.”

It was difficult to voice his relief, the odd mix of emotions stirring in his chest at those words. Silence stretched, though it was a comfortable one, Loki sighing against Thor’s palm till the metal had warmed against his skin.

In the stillness he let his own hands fall to his brother’s midsection, pressing against bare skin he’d not even allowed himself to enjoy. Even then, the contact did not seem to register. Another thought had taken precedence, a question building inside him, one he couldn’t seem to ignore.

“You thought it was a trick,” said Loki, softly. He searched again for Thor’s gaze, settling only once he had it, and waited for his brother to nod before he continued. “That I might humiliate you, if you should respond to my advances?”

Thor did not visibly flinch from the words, but Loki felt it anyway, with his brother’s hand pressed so against his skin. He could remember playing many games like that in spirit, but none so intimate, not when Thor was the only one he had ever longed for in such a way.

“Something like that, in the beginning,” Thor sighed. “Or that you desired something simply because you could not have it.”

That sense of disquiet rose again in Loki, and it could not be ignored. He did remember, then, how he _had_ seen it as a game, a challenge, something to pit himself and his skills against to get what he wanted. It hadn’t been a game in the way Thor had likely pictured, with some cruel and mortifying twist, one that he would drop once he had gotten what he wanted out of it. For Loki, the game and the reward had been the same thing: Thor’s attention, his touch, his love.

He almost wished it could have been as simple as Thor thought it was; that he could have desired his brother only for the thrill of it and been satisfied by a single night with him. Loki could imagine how Thor came to that reasoning, and could just as easily imagine Thor’s shock at discovering he had been wrong. And that it had been so much more.

For a moment, he felt something cruel twist inside. It didn’t seem to matter that it had happened to the man who came before him—the memory of that night was visceral, gutting. It shaped so much of everything that came after, everything that Loki had become.

But, he thought, it didn’t need to rule him now.

“So you took me to bed,” Loki drawled, letting the feeling pass, and then laughed incredulously. “You thought you’d fuck it out of my system?”

Maybe he wasn’t angry about it, but he still got a little pleasure out of watching Thor squirm in discomfort. Thor had gone deeply red, though he didn’t pull his hand away, and eventually he nodded stiffly.

“You _would_ put it that way,” he said miserably. “It was a terrible idea, I know now.”

Loki wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Up until a certain point, it had been everything he wanted, everything he had long dreamed—until Thor stopped. Until Thor confessed his true intentions, and left him so deeply wounded for the experience. Loki shook his head, trying to clear his mind of it.

“I suppose it was a shock then,” he murmured instead, “to learn I desired more from you than a single conquest?”

It felt strange, to not only draw those memories into the light, but to speak of them frankly. He couldn’t call it enjoyable, though it seemed to realign something small inside of him, like a tangled string pulled just right.

Loki was less sure Thor felt the same about the matter, and watched him squirm under the question. Again, it passed, and Thor sighed deeply.

“I should never have done that to you,” he said, eventually. “It was cruel.”

Loki did not disagree, but… there was something else hidden in those words, he thought, something more that his brother did not want to say. And drawing that out seemed far more important than hearing Thor castigate himself yet again for his terrible decisions.

Because over the years, Thor had given him two confessions, and they were not yet reconciled. Not fully.

“So,” Loki started, his gaze heavy where he watched Thor’s face. “When did it change for you?”

_When did you begin to want me, too?_

Thor swallowed heavily, but he did not resist answering.

“After,” he said. “After that night.”

Loki felt his lips pull into a narrow line at the admission. He wasn’t so certain of the timeline, though…he doubted Thor was lying to him on purpose. If Thor had taken some concoction to assist him, some chemical or magical assistance to ensure he would be able to complete the act that he had convinced himself was for his little brother’s benefit, he certainly had not done so in Loki’s presence.

Yet Thor continued, unprompted, and Loki did not interrupt him.

“I came to see you differently, in time. But by then, I was so ashamed—I could see no way past what I had already done.” Thor exhaled. With the contact between them, Loki could feel how his heart pounded. “And you… You would not speak to me about it.”

In between breaths, his mind worked; Loki pressed past the memory of that night, and came to remember the days after. How things had turned so sharply between them, to seemingly everyone’s unspoken relief. No one had asked him any questions—not about their supposed hunting trip, or why they had returned so soon, nor what had soured in their relationship.

Because he could recall as well how he came to avoid Thor for as long as he could—days, weeks, nearly months. That he had refused any engagement that would compel them together, or any attempt by Thor to speak privately. Despite how much Loki had longed for his brother even then, he denied himself those moments, choosing instead to stoke the anger in him, the feeling of betrayal that cut him so deeply; to gladly dwell on his resentment and let it fester, until he could barely feel the hunger in him by comparison.

That sounded like the old Loki, indeed.

“I didn’t want to hear you apologize again,” Loki murmured, as though distant. He—or the man he once was—had regretted nothing about what he had done, and had only resented the shame that had kept Thor from him. The shame he saw in Thor’s eyes, every time his brother had looked in his direction, after that night.

Right now, Loki regretted many things. Perhaps more than he might ever voice.

“Even then,” Thor added, shaking his head in something like defeat. Loki watched him, curiously, aware of nothing so well as he was the feel of Thor’s body under his, the look on his face. “Even if I had somehow found a way to make it right between us—it could not have worked, in the life we had then.”

 _Ah_ , Loki thought then, very simply. His gaze was steady, his hands so warm where they pressed to Thor’s skin, flexing his fingers just so to guide Thor’s attention back to him fully.

“I suppose you were right, in that,” Loki said, in the growing quiet. “But—what about the life we have now?”

Thor did not answer him, not at first.

In the stillness, as Thor merely held his gaze, Loki remembered how often he struggled with patience. Particularly as it came to this favored brother, loved above all else. It was as though he might run out of time, lose some precious opportunity—and so he had lunged ahead, always. Pushed relentlessly for all that he desired. Little surprise that it had taken a lifetime to see how Thor could have come to meet him, had he taken a slower pace.

This time he waited, and for his patience, he was rewarded.

Thor did not speak, but he did not need to. The damp chill of the tugboat’s hull seemed a distant thing, for the warmth between them now. His brother’s uru fingertips carried that same heat, and Loki felt himself go very still as Thor’s touch softly traced the line of his cheek down to his throat, the hollow place between his collarbones. He thought he would feel nothing as that hand pressed lower, sliding over the scale armor covering his chest, but in truth he felt it as though it were his bare skin so touched.

Shivering, Loki took a breath, and leaned forward to meet Thor’s hand, aching to feel it better. His eyes seemed to go unfocused at the shift in pressure, half-lidded then as if he drifted in some other place as Thor’s hand crossed the center of his chest and further still.

When Thor’s hand reached the front of his pants, Loki jolted back to himself with a shiver. He hadn’t even realized he was hard until that instant, his gaze dropping to watch Thor so carefully trace the shape of his cock through the fabric.

He felt frozen, helpless but to stare, to breathe unsteadily and not allow himself for a moment to feel hope. But then Thor spoke, and whispered his name—so sweetly and so unsure, as though it were a question.

Loki answered that question with a kiss. He jerked into movement, his arms wrapped tightly around the back of Thor’s neck, mouths crushed together in a manner that they had never kissed before. It stunned Thor to stillness in his arms, but before Loki could find it in himself to correct his misstep, Thor met his ferocity with equal strength. Thor gripped and held him, hauling his body closer still.

“Please,” Loki felt himself gasp, muffled first against Thor’s mouth, and again into the air when that mouth fell to his throat instead. If Thor replied in words, it was lost to his ears over the sound of his own sharp exhalations, the sound of rustling fabric as his brother determinedly started working his coat off his shoulders.

Biting down on his lip to keep from laughing, Loki left him to it. Even limited as he was, he could use a spell to assist Thor in his labors, but it was entirely too thrilling to have those heavy hands on him. To witness and feel his brother strip him of his already ragged clothing, piece by piece, until there was nothing left, and Loki could only shake for his arousal.

When it was done, Thor did not pull him close again right away. Loki watched as Thor’s eyes took him in, hands tracking a similar path, and it was interesting how similar the two felt against his skin. The uru was unnaturally smooth, but as Thor handled him, Loki smiled distractedly at the strength he could feel in both grips.

For a moment, it seemed Thor was taking a similar assessment. They had not gotten anywhere near this far last time, just a few years past. Loki knew the ways this body differed from his last, though they were of little consequence, and he felt warm at the idea of Thor taking stock of him. Of letting Thor come to know this body as well as the first, if not better.

Shivering as Thor stroked his skin, his brother exploratory and lustful, Loki huffed a soft laugh into the air.

“Far cry from the first time, isn’t it?” he murmured with a smile, thoughtful in the lull. “Two princes of Asgard in the bottom of a boat that smells like wet dog, so far from that snow-capped mountain retreat…”

“Loki,” Thor sighed, though he did not stop what he was doing, or lift his hands away.

“I’m not complaining. In fact, I think I rather like it.” The thought spurred something inside him abruptly, and he happily met Thor’s gaze to smile once more before slipping out of his hands. Thor let him without complaint, watching Loki curiously as he moved and rearranged himself.

And Loki didn’t say, _I’m glad that lodge is dust now_ , though it was, and he was indeed glad of it. He didn’t want to remember that first time anymore now—except for one thing: that which he had denied himself before. He saw no reason to deny himself again.

“Yes, this is definitely better,” he whispered instead, his mouth dragging over Thor’s lower belly. It was worth it to steal a glance up at Thor’s face and enjoy the look of stunned, hopeful desire there for an instant as Loki pulled Thor’s bedding to the side at last, and before Loki’s attention turned elsewhere. To the weight and thickness of Thor’s cock in his hands, for the first time in thousands of years.

“Oh,” he sighed with a shiver of exhilaration, squeezing just so. “I’ve wanted to do this since—”

Thor laughed then, shaking his head. “Brother, I beg you not to finish that sentence.”

 _Fair enough_ , Loki conceded to himself, and he set to work; there was then no need for words at all. This time around, he _did_ know what he was doing. And it was soon clear that his brother quite liked it, for his fingers quickly came to tangle in Loki’s hair and tighten hard in pitched need as he took Thor into his mouth.

For a second, as his brother gripped him hard and showed no signs of letting go, Loki wondered if he had entirely lost the right to Thor’s past tenderness with him. In a way, he thought he might understand if that were the case. It wouldn’t be without cause—and he hadn’t exactly appreciated it very much when he had it. It would change little about his own desires, but he did wonder.

Yet nearly as quickly as Thor became rough with him, his brother settled once more, drawing a breath as he steadied and came to stroke the back of Loki’s neck instead of pulling at his hair. Thor had such great _strength_ in those hands, but here and now the press of those fingers to his skin was nothing but gentle.

 _Oh_ , Loki thought, distantly. Nothing but that, in the unexpected stillness of his mind.

From there, it was impossible not to set himself to his task with vigor, working over Thor’s cock with his tongue, his teeth, his fingers. He took his brother deep again and again, until he was quite nearly blue in the face and lightheaded from it—and until Thor, to Loki’s desperate satisfaction, was nearly _sobbing_ from it. His grip went tight from time to time, an instruction Loki took to best know how his brother liked it, as he had long fantasized.

“Please,” Thor gasped, after a while. The very word sent a terrible jolt down Loki’s spine, as if he could possibly have been more aroused already. It was enough to make him lift his head, his mouth wet and raw, and he smiled.

“I like hearing _you_ beg for once,” Loki teased him, and shivered at the hoarse quality his voice had taken. “Say it again?”

Without hesitation or complaint, Thor did exactly that, leaving Loki faintly staggered as his brother said again, “Loki, _please_.”

Something shifted in him, a new and gnawing edge to the hunger inside that Loki had grown to live with over all his years. There wasn’t room for hesitation, not even the desire to draw it out and torment Thor for his own enjoyment—not with so desperate a need in him. He needed Thor inside him again and took him, luxuriating in the strain, the heat and bitter taste of his brother in every way he had longed for.

Dizzy with his own desperation, Loki lost himself in the physicality of it. Nothing processed but his own wet, ragged breaths, the sound of his name on his brother’s lips, whispered in fervent need. Thor’s hips twitched toward him, accidentally at first—but it forced the thickness of him deeper, and Loki decided that he liked it, that he would have more of it. He squeezed his brother’s hips, pulling at him again and again until at last Thor understood, fucking up into his mouth in short, barely-controlled thrusts.

 _Yes_ , Loki thought, listening his own muffled, choked-off gasps as if from far away, arousal tightening sharply inside his belly with every push.

When at last Thor spilled inside him, Loki was faint from the sweet abuse of it, yet he groaned in satisfaction as though he were the one so pleasured. But he was still hard, painfully so, and was only made more aware of it as he was guided back into Thor’s lap, his brother’s strong hands pulling him close once more.

His gaze dropped between them drowsily, shuddering at the sight of Thor’s cock resting spent between them, aching still at how much he desired it. Absentmindedly he tongued his lower lip, and noted at once how hot it felt, how raw, and it was difficult not to become distracted by the sensation. In his daze, he realized slowly that Thor was talking to him, and still touching him with those warm, heavy hands.

“Mm?” Loki hummed, and gave himself a little shake. He looked up again to see Thor flushed and smiling at him, his blue eyes so very heated.

“I said, I only need a few moments,” Thor said, and indeed, Loki watched with no small amount of arousal as he stirred once more. It was slower the second time around, thickening lazily as Loki stared with rapt attention. His throat, already abused as it was, went dry at the sight.

“Not bad,” Loki said, his lips curved in a drowsy smile. “For a man your age, anyway.”

Thor’s eyes flashed in indignation, his mouth opening to speak, but Loki reached for him again, then, and the only sound to escape him was a sharp gasp, almost pained. Despite the noise Thor did nothing to stop Loki from gently working him in one lazy stroke once again. He bit his lip, and then he nodded, and so Loki continued.

“I need you to trust me,” Loki said, as he encouraged Thor carefully back to hardness. “Just for a second or two.”

Though he expected some sarcastic response, perhaps a wary glance in his direction, Thor only nodded again. He didn’t seem to be listening anymore, as his eyes had fallen between them, as though fully mesmerized by Loki’s pale fingers wrapped around his cock, the dark tips of his nails.

Loki smiled to himself, fighting back a soft laugh to avoid ruining the moment. What he left slick with his mouth became slicker under his hand in a sudden shimmer of pale green, and then Thor _did_ react as Loki hoped he would—with a start.

“Fuck—” Thor exclaimed, and his hands fell heavily to the floor, tangling in the bedding there until his knuckles went white.

“ _There’s_ that language. I was starting to wonder what I might need to do to get such a reaction from you.” Loki’s smile twisted into something nearly feral as he shifted closer on his knees, though Thor did not seem to notice, for all his bluster.

“Loki, I swear—”

Whatever Thor had in mind, the words never made it out. Not as Loki pressed Thor back against the floor, as he let gravity and the depth of his desire work his brother’s cock into him, pushing in and _in_ , until everything else had faded from his awareness, and there was nothing but the two of them.

“Oh,” Loki breathed, when it was done, and his thighs trembled where they rested on either side of his brother’s hips. His head had fallen back at some point, and as he lifted it he could see how Thor gazed at him, eyes virtually black with his urgency and need. Loki could feel how still he had gone, though his brother’s hands were tight around his hips, and trembling with restraint. Waiting for him, this time.

When he was ready, Loki did move, canting his hips carefully to see just how Thor fit inside him. It was strange; a dull, perfect ache, exactly as he remembered it—and yet nothing like the first time at all. Nothing like any lover he’d had since, in either lifetime, though the comparison didn’t trouble him for long. He was content, in any case, and took his pleasure slowly, reacquainting himself with the shape of Thor inside.

The boat rocked around them, a swaying Loki had barely noticed until he found himself moving with it. Tension built in him steadily, sweetly, though for a time he barely made a sound, focusing mindlessly on the sight of his fingers pressed flat to Thor’s belly as he followed the momentum of his body. On the feel of Thor, so solid inside him—the sound of Thor whispering his name, encouraging and pleading in turn.

On the edge of his attention, he saw how his own cock swayed also between them, so red and wet and aching. Almost absentmindedly he took himself in hand, his grip loose despite the strength of his need, unwilling to approach the edge of release too quickly.

It was only when the sounds from Thor seemed to fade that Loki noticed how his eyes had fallen shut in distraction. It was difficult to keep them open entirely, his hips now rolling with ease, but he looked down at Thor through his eyelashes, and found he could not read his brother’s face at all. Thor watched him in near silence, blue eyes darting from his face to his hand, wrapped so carefully around himself.

Not quite nervous, Loki laughed softly, breathlessly, his mouth tugging into an uncertain smile as he moved. Speaking had ruined everything last time, as he acutely remembered.

“What?” he asked, unsure of the intensity in that stare, and wondered just where Thor’s thoughts had gone.

“I need you,” came the unexpected answer.

Again, Loki laughed, straightening his back somewhat, and gasping at how it changed the feeling of Thor’s cock inside him with each roll of his hips.

“Well,” he said, and shivered. “In case it’s escaped your notice, you have me.”

“I need you _closer,_ then,” said Thor, fiercely, and reached up with both hands to drag him down into a kiss. It felt frenzied, compared to the self-indulgent pace Loki had set for himself, and despite his surprise, he met it gladly. His fingers came to grip Thor’s cropped hair, tightening as his brother surged up into him as they clung together.

And somehow, in an instant, Loki was on his back. Even though he was no longer some gangly thing, Thor moved him effortlessly. He may as well _still_ weigh nothing, for all the trouble Thor had in gripping and manhandling him, and wasn’t very surprised to hear himself moan out loud in encouragement. Though it wasn’t painful, it knocked the air from Loki’s lungs, and by the time Thor had let him go, he was winded and dazed, staring down at his fingers gripping the rumpled sheets over the floor.

He felt a step behind, and struggled to catch up; even as his head spun with vertigo from the speed Thor had reversed their positions, all he could do was groan at the loss of his brother inside him. A noise that quickly bled into something else entirely as he realized the position Thor had left him in, splayed out on his hands and knees, achingly exposed.

Thor was gone from his sight, but had become a radiating presence behind him. Loki shivered to feel the heat of him so close, and pressed back against him hopefully. Whatever dignity he might have possessed was gone then, and he outright whimpered when Thor’s hand fell firmly to his lower back. Thor pushed inside him again, this time with dizzying ease, and Loki found he no longer cared about anything else.

“Don’t stop this time, _please_ ,” Loki whispered.

“I won’t,” Thor swore to him, and Loki was inclined to believe him, with the need trembling through the words. “Not until I’m done with you.”

 _Yes_ , Loki thought—though the only sound to escape him was a thready cry of agreement. Thor’s hands were on him, cock filling him completely, and distantly Loki couldn’t help to also think… That perhaps they seemed to fit together better, now, with the differences between them less extreme.

He knew his new body was not greatly dissimilar from the first, though it was certainly physically older than he had been when they first attempted this. He was taller, not quite so scrawny. Thor of course was still greater, and could still so easily overpower him, as he had just painlessly demonstrated. To even remember it was enough to make Loki’s heart nearly skip a beat, to make him consider what else Thor could do to him with all his strength, how easy it would be.

But Thor did not do that, didn’t pin him to the floor and fuck him with force. Loki dazedly thought he _might_ have requested it—if he had not lost his voice entirely when his brother instead curled around him, broad chest pressed to Loki’s trembling back. Distracted by the shifting pressure of Thor inside him, Loki barely registered that Thor had wrapped an arm across his chest, that he now supported both their bodies upright with but one arm extended.

 _Showoff_ , Loki wanted to say, but the position had pushed Thor inside him somehow more fully, and instead Loki could only sigh as his own elbows went weak. The arm that stretched over his chest was Thor’s flesh and blood, so broad that Thor’s palm nearly covered his entire sternum. As Loki relaxed into it, Thor held his weight, fingertips brushing his collarbone, the column of his throat, sending a startling thrill through his entire body.

“Is that good?” his brother asked softly. It was rather sweet, considering how Loki felt his entire body throb with urgent need, every nerve alight and waiting. But Thor’s beard scratched at the back of his neck with the words, and Loki felt a breathless laugh escape him even as he shivered at the intimacy of the sensation.

“You need to shave,” Loki answered, and laughed harder still when his flippant comment was followed by the sting of teeth. But Thor finally moved, started to give it to him in earnest, and Loki could not remember how to even breathe then, much less laugh.

It _was_ good, Loki found. Drifting in the ache and pleasure of it, he heard his own voice as though it belonged to someone else. _Yes_ , he heard himself moan, and whisper. _Brother, please_.

In flashes, Loki remembered the strength with which he had desired this. To be Thor’s, to belong to him completely, and nothing more than that. To the extent that he often thought he would be content just to have Thor _use_ him, if that was what his brother desired. That he might let Thor do virtually anything with him, as long as he had Thor’s attention and love in exchange. He remembered intimately, the pleasure he found in such a thing the first time, when everything else was just senseless heat and pressure.

But that was a different life, a different need, and he did not desire it now. Not when he had this—pleasurable tension building in him with every thrust, Thor’s mouth against the side of his neck, kissing and biting him in turn.

It wasn’t fast or particularly hard, none of the things Loki might have expected or dimly hoped for. Thor rocked into him steadily, the position allowing him to push in deeply to the point Loki felt he saw stars each time his brother’s hips pressed firm against his ass.

Maybe it wasn’t those things, but Loki didn’t want it to stop. It was only when he was close that he moaned more sharply, gasping his brother’s name when he struggled to articulate his need. The words were impossible to get out, but Thor seemed to understand, and hauled Loki back against his hips to meet each thrust.

He had wanted to be possessed, that first time. To be owned and claimed. And that much, he found, he still wanted very much. As Thor finally fucked into him with strength, the heavy weight of his cock pressing down with such intensity, Loki could only sob his encouragement, and brace himself as best he could to take it. His throat felt raw for his cries, as though it went on forever, but he knew he only lasted a few moments under the assault before release found him. The tension broke in a wave, one he rode into a second, with his hand working his cock where he was spent and sensitive. The second climax hurt some, but in the aftermath there was nothing but relief, the still-pleasurable fullness of Thor inside him as his body twitched and shivered around it.

Tiredly self-assured, Loki felt he could remain like that for hours, with Thor fucking into him steadily still. But as the aftershocks left him, so too did the strength keeping him upright, until even Thor’s hold could not prevent him from going limp and slumping to the rumpled bedding on the floor.

Loki groaned in protest as Thor then pulled out, followed by a muffled and nearly delirious laugh against the uneven floor while he found the strength to roll himself back over.

With his brother’s face flushed from exertion, his entire body shaking as well with restraint and need, Thor’s expression of perplexed concern was just about more than Loki could handle.

“Do you think I have waited this long for you to stop already?” Loki whispered, loose limbed and smiling. “I’m not even tired yet, brother.”

He reached for Thor, guiding him down with a careful touch. After a moment, rolling his eyes with a familiar exasperated fondness, Thor followed, and this time, as requested, he did not stop.

Loki took him again until he came, and twice after, the last with the weight of Thor’s uru hand pinning him to the hard floor as he pleaded for it. The pressure and heat of it drove all thoughts from his head, the beast in him quiet and forgotten. By the time Thor at last stopped, Loki could only tremble and breathe under the weight of what felt like a brand to his chest, one he hoped to feel for days.

By then, it seemed strength had deserted Thor as well—at least, more than he had seen in some time, outside of battle. As Thor collapsed to the floor and held him, Loki found he quite liked the sight of his brother so fatigued, and as well the steady sound of Thor’s heartbeat below his ear where he came to rest, so much so that he felt no inclination to move for hours.

In the quiet peace after, a sense of fullness ushered Loki into a contented doze, enveloped by a familiar warmth he had not felt in some time.

He dozed, and for a while, but he could not sleep. He wanted to; he wanted all that he had been denied that first night, a lifetime ago—to sleep with Thor’s arms around him, his body aching in a dozen interesting and pleasant ways. To wake together, and perhaps do it all again.

But eventually, the outside world’s noises crept into the quiet little space they had enjoyed. The cries of seagulls, distant voices from the docks. Though it was only once Loki heard the soft thumping of Thori’s footsteps overhead that he really began to feel the pressures of time settling around him.

He tried to ignore it; he really did. While Thor dozed under his weight, Loki barely moved but to breathe steadily and enjoy the heat of him. But it couldn’t last, and eventually Thor stirred, reaching up to run his broad fingers through Loki’s hair.

Sighing, Loki leaned into the touch, though he didn’t speak. If he opened his mouth, he knew what he must say—but eventually, Thor spared him from it.

“When do you have to go?” Thor murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

 _Hours ago_. Loki swallowed, then shrugged where he rested against Thor’s broad chest.

“Now, I suppose,” he lied, without guilt, and stole another few moments breathing against his brother’s skin before he could bring himself to stand. Even when he did, Thor’s touch seemed to follow him—lingering against his shoulder, his lower back, until he at last stepped away.

In the near silence, Loki gingerly collected his belongings. There were shortcuts, with magic—shortcuts he had taken countless times for convenience or expediency, dressing or undressing with a snap.

But as he glanced over his shoulder, Loki found Thor watching him still, and so…he took his time. He wouldn’t call it _erotic_ , but there was a particular intimacy to the moment, one he did not desire to rush. Loki dressed in his tattered things, and Thor reclined back against a burlap sack stuffed with reclaimed Asgardian oddities to watch him, both in this musty little boat his brother now called home.

Their lives could not be more different than those they had, long ago—yet inside, he found that he felt very much the same. It was more of a relief than he might have expected, with the roar of need in him reduced to a comforting ebb.

“So you have had what you desired of me,” said Thor, quietly. Thor, who seemingly looked right through him, and echoed Loki’s private thoughts as though they had been spoken aloud. “Are you now satisfied?”

There was something in the question Loki barely recognized, coming from Thor. Something guarded in his tone, almost like fear. Loki found himself turning it over in his mind, driven by a need to understand.

Satisfied—that was what his brother had thought to accomplish the first time, wasn’t it? He would give Loki his victory, and hope that he would be satisfied and lose interest thereafter, as he had so many times before. Loki remembered how he had indeed grown tired with the things he sought, once achieved. And Thor had always known that, because Thor had known him well.

Now, it seemed, Thor was no longer hoping for that particular result.

“No,” Loki said eventually, with his voice very warm. “Though I _was_ , and I could be again, should you choose to indulge me in the future.”

They could have this, he thought, as he had long ago. But he knew better now, that it would not be easy.

Loki returned to Thor, once he was ready. His body ached, a sensation he felt most keenly as he went to his knees to press a kiss to Thor’s slack, surprised mouth. His eyes were darkly shadowed with his exhaustion, short hair unflatteringly tousled, and Loki desperately longed for him still.

There was a question building between them. Loki could feel it, unspoken but known, though he did not know how he would answer it, once it materialized.

Everything had always returned him here. To this moment, this man, this need. But he knew as well, now, how he could not be tethered to any one thing, not forever, not without coming to resent his bonds.

Which meant that in this second life of his, there was very little Loki could think to say that would offer Thor much comfort about where that left them, on such untested ground.

“You know I am many things,” he said, quietly. Thor’s eyebrows twitched in question, but did not interrupt. So Loki touched his cheek, and softly continued. “Not often your ally, sometimes your enemy, always your brother. But you should know that I am _yours_ , in any case, regardless of the other noun of the day.”

It was all he had ever wanted to be.

Thor rolled his eyes, and exhaled with a fond sigh. “I see you still have your clever way with words.”

Loki mirrored the sound as he stood back again, laughing with a small shrug. He gestured down at his body, the ragged things he wore. He could repair them, if he were inclined, but he found that they suited him, and reflected well his current status as a disowned and exiled prince.

“My words are all that I’ve got these days, brother,” he said. “You can’t expect me not to have fun with them.”

Thor smiled then, so very warm, and reached for him. Loki hesitated but for an instant, allowing his brother to clasp his hand, and did not flinch when his brother said, “No.”

Again, Thor said, “No,” with the word whispered to his knuckles. “Your words are not all you have.”

Loki could only stare, his chest very tight, gripped by hope and the fear of hope.

“I know you,” Thor continued. “It is for that reason I cannot always trust you. But you would not _be_ you, otherwise.”

The words stirred a memory, one that once caused him pain. _You are you,_ Thor had told him. It had hurt, for all the doubt in him, the gnawing hunger and dread.

Here, now, Loki nodded. _Yes_ , he thought. _I am_.

Thor looked away from him, pressing a warm kiss to his fingers, and Loki chose that moment to go, to dematerialize in a shimmer. To do so kept the sensation with him, the feel of his brother’s lips to his skin—not a tether, but a thread.

One to help him find his way back to Thor, always.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...poor Baldr.
> 
> final thank you to @reikah for everything you've done to help me create something I am so incredibly happy with. ♥︎ 
> 
> (and thank all of you, as well, for giving it a chance and being so kind ♥︎♥︎ you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacehussy) and [tumblr](https://spacehussy.tumblr.com), where i have also posted this little [companion sketch](https://spacehussy.tumblr.com/post/178340616155) from the third chapter ♥︎)  
> (update: also I commissioned [this piece](https://twitter.com/nekokat42/status/1066111604633280517) by @nekokat42 because i am deeply shameless)


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